


halbarry ficlets

by magnetocent



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetocent/pseuds/magnetocent
Summary: collection of fics from my tumblr. ratings vary from g-e





	1. bed sharing (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bed sharing fic. pre-slash

His nose is cold.

That’s the first thing he thinks when he wakes up. The second is that, despite this, the rest of his body is pleasantly  _warm_. His muscles feel soft, pliant, and he thinks he could just melt into the mattress. And the body wrapped around his back is a welcome weight—

Wait.

He blinks his eyes open against the early morning light. Almost involuntarily, he stretches, and jostles the body next to him. The resulting groan is enough to remind him that it’s  _Hal_  in his bed and everything comes together in his mind.

He already remembers the heater in his apartment acting up yesterday, causing an unbearable heat to flood the entirety of the place. And he remembers letting Hal take a look at it while he went to work. And sub sequentially regretting that decision at two in the morning when both of them are up and wrapped in blankets against the winter cold, trying and failing to get the damn thing to just  _work_  at all. He’d ended up resorting to grabbing every blanket he had, a heating pad, and Hal, and bringing them all to bed with him.

 _Good idea_ , he thinks vaguely as he burrows more into the blankets and embrace. The arm around him tightens, hand rubbing at his sternum before trailing downward. Before it can get too low, he stops it, humming a small noise.

“Mm, bar?” Hal mumbles into his shoulder.

Barry hums again in confirmation. He feels Hal lift his head behind him before it plops back down onto the pillow. He shifts, and Barry’s lower back is suddenly a bit colder, but he doesn’t move away. Barry vaguely wonders if this is  _weird_ , but he’s too tired, too comfortable to do anything about it.

“You’re so warm, bro.”

It’s muttered out against the back of his ear. Hal’s voice is deeper and gravely from sleep. A shiver runs down Barry’s spine despite the heat surrounding him. He smiles, ignoring the sensation.

“Yeah,” he replies. His voice cracks halfway through the word, so he clears his throat, “I run hot.”

He feels shifting behind him again, and the warm body is gone. But the arm that was around him tugs at his shoulder, and urges him to turn over.

“My turn.” Hal says. He’s already in little spoon position and waiting when Barry flops onto his back.

“Oh, come on,” Barry complains, “I was so comfy.”

Hal doesn’t reply, doesn’t give any indication that he heard him or that he cares. Just lies there and waits until the air is cold enough around both of them that Barry  _has_  to cuddle up to him again. And it works. Barry snakes his arms around him and pulls him back into his chest. Curls his legs up to fit in the space behind Hal’s and sticks his still cold nose into the space between his shoulder blades.

Hal grunts and squirms against the feeling, “dude.”

“Deal with it.” Barry grins, but he adjusts himself anyway, turning his head to rest his cheek on Hal instead.

They lie like that for a moment, breathing in time. Barry eventually finds he can’t get back to sleep, and moves to grab his phone off the side table. Before he can move too much though, his wrists are grabbed.

“I just need to call the landlord,” he explains, tugging at the grip. Hal responds by rolling onto his stomach, dragging Barry over him and trapping his arms under his body. Barry tries to catch himself before his persistent morning wood is made apparent against Hal’s ass, but it’s difficult when he has no use of his arms. He’s pressed against Hal, and his ass is  _so warm_  against his dick. And he tries his best not to draw attention to it, holds his breath in wait of Hal’s ribbing, but it never comes. He doesn’t know what to do, so he stays still.

“Hal, come on,” he says, “I have to get the heater fixed, it’s freezing.”

Hal squirms again, whining. The movement has Barry squeezing his eyes shut and thinking of dead puppies to try and will his erection away. He doesn’t get why Hal’s so adamant about him staying with him, he’s not even going to leave the bed yet. Not when it’s so cold, and not when he has Hal willingly sharing warmth with him.

But then Hal pulls his face from the pillow. Looks over his shoulder at Barry with pleading eyes and parted lips and Barry feels a sudden thrill of  _hope_  shoot through him. And it’s only heightened when Hal pushes back against him, shifts his legs to let one of Barry’s slide between them.

“Can it—I want to sleep a bit longer,” Hal reasons, adding after a moment, “with you.”

Barry swallows thickly, not quite believing what’s happening. He feels the heat build in his cheeks when he nods and Hal smiles at him. Then Hal lets his arms go, and twists so they’re back on their sides. Barry pulls him back in, and rests his cheek where it was settled on his back before.

He closes his eyes, and listens to the gentle thump of Hal’s heartbeat.


	2. little things (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice soft morning fic for the christmas boys.
> 
> established relationship (very established, hal is pretty domestic in this), very fluffy drabble, with a tiny bit of feels in the middle. written as a temporary apology for the brojobs feels.

Take time to enjoy the little things. 

Barry says this to him all the time. Stuff like: watching a sharks & stags game with Ollie and Dinah, catching a nice wave when he’s surfing, his first coffee he has when he gets back from space. Those little things that make him happy, take a moment and just remember there are good things in life, even if they’re small.

At first Hal thought it was kind of stupid, because it was Barry saying it. The guy who can make a second last for hours is going on about how important they are, like Hal doesn’t realize. Like he doesn’t live every single one of them to the fullest because he  _knows_ that and doesn’t want to waste his time thinking about them instead.

But then it occurred to him, through the first year of their relationship, through the quiet, late night talks about the past, and the anniversaries of death, that introspection wasn’t the most important part of Barry’s advice. It was remembering that even when all hope seems lost, it isn’t, and there are still things that make life worth living. 

So Hal will heed this sometimes. When they’re sitting out on the front porch on a warm summer evening, condensation from a cold beer dripping over his fingers. When he’s working out in the sun while Barry pulls weeds from the garden. Or when he comes home from a mission, crawls into his big, warm bed and is wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms.

Or, when he wakes up early enough on a quiet Sunday morning to watch Barry do yoga.

That’s probably one of the more enjoyable little things. Walking into their living room, squinting into the bright morning sun at Barry’s form stretching out into various poses. He feels a small smile tug at his lips, and makes his way over to the couch to sprawl out on it.

He’s always amazed at how well Barry can hold the poses. Despite his power, he presents a pleasant tranquility. He’s a calming, soft energy that radiates, seeming to almost still the air around him. Hal can’t even make himself sit through a thirty minute TV show – not even the brightly coloured, fast paced cartoons Wally swears are funny. How Barry can make himself slow down, do things like yoga in real time, disregard the tantalizing pull of the speed force and stay immobile, is impressive to him.

The first time he came out to watch, he voiced this, though not as eloquently ( _”dude, how do you even do that? How are you not bored as fuck? Why don’t you just like, speed through it?”_ ). Barry had barely answered him, too absorbed in his actions – or maybe just unimpressed with Hal’s constant interruptions – to give him more than a just a vague explanation.

 _Control is important_ , he had said,  _Slowing down is important_.

Then he had swooped into downward dog and Hal went silent, attention focused fully on the curve of his ass.

Today Barry seems more in tune with the world outside his bubble. When he hears Hal slide onto the couch, he turns his head enough to shoot him a small smile.

“Want to join me?” he asks. Hal’s doesn’t know what pose he’s in now, but he thinks this one might be a warrior. He likes to call it the ‘smell your pits’ pose. It looks uncomfortable, but then again they all do.

“I’m good here,” he replies, voice still raspy with sleep, “maybe if you do some of those bendy ones I’ll come help you with your  _form_.”

Barry turns his head away, moving into the next pose, but Hal still hears him chuckle. He watches him a while longer, following the flow of his body as it moves from one position to the next. It’s in times like this where he really gets what Barry means by little things. A quiet morning with his boyfriend, away from villains and little, grouchy blue aliens. Taking a moment and enjoying their time together. Their quiet, slow,  _relaxing_  time…

He’s jolted awake when his arm is shaken.

“Hey,” Barry says quietly, “I think I heard an explosion, we should check it out.”

Hal whines and tries to bury his head into the armrest.

“Don’t do that,” he hears Barry scold, “Listen, we’ll clean up whatever mess the rogues started, and then I’ll take you that diner you liked. With those breakfast burgers?”

The bargain gets his attention – not that he needed a bargain to go help, he’s not a total dick. But he will take advantage if it’s offered.

“Did you finish your yoga?” he asks, pulling his face from the couch enough to look at Barry. The other man shakes his head in answer.

“Alright,” Hal says, “breakfast burgers, and I want more bendy poses when we get back. Deal?”

Barry laughs, then gives him a small kiss on the lips, “Okay.”

There’s a small pull in Hal’s chest when they pull apart. Little things are important, and with Barry he’ll never be without them.


	3. first kiss (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: I have a prompt/suggestion!!: Hal and Barry's first kiss? :) 
> 
> lil bit of barryiris in this

This was in no way what Barry expected for his first kiss.

First of all, it wasn’t supposed to be this sloppy. He was expecting sweet – a soft press of lips that lasted only a few seconds but felt like forever. Not a tongue shoved into his mouth, separating his teeth and licking at every place it could reach.

And he was hoping the first time he kissed someone, it would be private. Maybe even somewhere romantic, like at a nice restaurant or under the stars. But he was standing in front of at least seven people, four of whom he didn’t even know, being cheered at like when he was running at a track meet.

And if he’s being honest, he was kind of hoping it would be with his crush, Iris West. He was hoping to ask her out soon, take her to the upcoming homecoming game. He wanted to place his sweater over her shoulders when she got cold, and pull her close. And then he would look into her beautiful green eyes, tuck a strand of soft, auburn hair behind her ear, and lean in close enough to count her freckles. And she’d smile at him and he’d kiss her.

But it’s not her freckles he got up close and personal with, no. it was the softer spattering flecked over the cheeks this brown haired, brown eyed sophomore whose name he vaguely knew started with an ‘h’. Hank or Henry or something. Who is distinctly male, and smells like pot and Axe body spray. 

He’s way out of Barry’s league, admittedly, and practically tongue-fucking him into the lockers. Surprisingly, his hands are gentle and don’t move from their spot on Barry’s hips. Barry has his own hands at the ready to shove the guy away. Or he did anyway. Now they just rest against the guy’s chest. And despite his immediate shock and disgust at a stranger kissing him, he’s allowing it to happen. It’s just…

It feels  _really good_.  

This guy knows how to kiss, and it’s so amazing, but at the same time Barry feels embarrassed at his inexperience. He just follows the guy’s lead, and tries his best to keep up until he realizes what’s he’s doing and tenses up.

The guy seems to read his body-language, and eases out of the kiss. He opens his eyes again, and the brown of them is deep and slightly glazed over and Barry can’t look away from them. The guy doesn’t look away from him either.

“I can’t believe he actually did it.”

“Really? It’s Hal. That was the stupidest twenty bucks you ever spent.”

Hal. An odd name for a teenager, but Barry’s one to talk. 

Hal smirks at him as he pulls away. The absence of his body heat breaks Barry out of his stupor, and he brings a hand to wipe at his mouth. They don’t break eye contact, and Hal’s friends’ attention wanes and they wander off.

“Sorry dude,” Hal says. His voice is deeper than Barry expects, “it was a dare.”

Barry waves him off, “that’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Hal disagrees.

It’s really not, but Barry enjoyed it enough not to lecture him about consent. Hal rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. A strand of hair falls over his forehead and Barry resists the urge to brush it back into place.

“You can’t just grab someone and force your tongue down their throat,” Hal says to him, “that’s not cool. But you also don’t call Hal Jordan a  _chicken_.”

_Okay, noted._

Barry can agree with the first part though, but all he can do is shrug because he liked the kiss a lot anyway. Hal watches him intently, his eyes searching.

“Barry, right?” he asks. There’s something wrong with Barry’s tongue, he’s sure Hal did something to it because he can’t seem to make it work. So he just nods.

Hal smirks again, “let me make it up to you. Meet me at lunch later? I’ll buy you some fries or something.”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Barry says, clearing his throat awkwardly after. Okay, he should go now. He flits his eyes down the empty hallway, down toward the classroom he was heading to before he was  _distracted._ Hal follows his gaze, and shifts.

“Ah, you’re gonna be late.” he says, then moves to step backward into the directions his friends left, “I’ll see you later Barry.”

Then he turns and leaves. Barry follows him until he turns the corner out of sight.

He blinks, then jumps when the late bell rings. He rushes to English class, shooting an apologetic look at the teacher’s glare when he enters. When he sits down, Iris turns back to look at him and shake her head in mock disappointment. 

He stares at her, the line of her nose and the freckles across her cheeks. Watches as they fade and her green eyes melt into a set of warm brown ones. He shakes his head and she’s back to her normal beautiful self.

 _Uh-oh_.


	4. movie nights (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: halbarry movies night?? ;)

Movie nights were Barry’s idea. He and Hal had just met a few months before, and had mostly just seen each other in costume at that point. But since they got along so well, they both thought it would be good to hang out off-duty. Get to know each other more, so that they could work better together. Plus Barry didn’t have much in the way of friends outside of work, and neither of them really knew any other superheroes yet. It would be nice to have someone around that lived that life, who  _understood_. 

So they agreed, at first, to just make time to hang out at least once a month, if possible. The first time, Hal had dragged Barry to some party held by Ferris Air, with two girls Barry’s sure he picked up an hour beforehand. And Barry spent the entire time sitting in the corner like he always does, people watching and waiting patiently until Hal drunkenly threw his arm around him and told him  _the girls ran off with someone else, let’s get the fuck outta here_. Then he spent the rest of the night getting Hal home and into bed. And then sitting on the edge of it while Hal curled into himself and told him all about his failed relationship with Carol Ferris.

The next day Barry got an apology text, telling him Hal understands if he doesn’t want to chill anymore, they can just fight bad guys together from now on. But Barry still liked Hal, even with that disaster of a night. And he understood that Hal was having a hard time because of the break up, and it would be awful to just leave him to deal with it alone. So he told him it was fine, and suggested they spend their nights in instead. 

And that’s how movie nights started.

At first it was awful. Hal wasn’t entirely on board with the concept, complaining about how bored he was most of the time. Barry refused to watch top gun more than once. Hal hated fantasy movies, and sci-fi set in space made him cringe more times than not. Dramas were too serious for a movie night, and neither of them even wanted to think about rom-coms. There wasn’t much else they could both agree on, so they settled for awful comedies and dumb action movies.

But it didn’t really matter by that point, because they never once had a movie night where they  _actually finished the movie._

The first time, they almost made it. But there had been a sudden and unnecessary romance thrust in at the end, and Hal had excused himself to get another beer. For ten minutes. 

Barry followed him after, not thinking to pause the movie. Hal stood at the counter, picking the label of an unopened beer, and Barry had just laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Hal told him everything, more coherently than the first time. Carol was the love of his life, there’d be no one else but her. And she was done with him for good this time. Already found herself someone else. 

“And she’s  _happy_ ,” he had said, “I can tell. Much happier than she ever was with me.”

Barry had no idea what to say, what Hal would want to hear, because he didn’t know him well enough yet. So he wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into his side, and reassured him when he cried that it was okay. That he could take all the time he needed, and that he’s there for him, because that’s what friends do. 

When they had returned to the living room, the credits were rolling and Barry turned off the TV. It was late, and he was still a bit concerned for Hal’s wellbeing, so he offered the couch to him for the first time.

 

Their nights went about almost the same way after that. They’d start a movie, and part way through, something would happen on screen that would trigger something in one of them. And they’d talk. Or they wouldn’t, and just stop the film, and bring up another subject. Hal would stay the night, and the next day they’d go for breakfast at the diner down the street, or in France, or the nearest planet with human friendly food.

And every night they didn’t talk, the nights where the mood is as light at the movie they chose, they’re interrupted by Captain Cold, or Grodd, or even doomsday that one time. The TV is forgotten, and by the time Barry gets back that night or a few days later, the DVD menu is repeating itself for the thousandth time and the little old lady next door is giving him an earful about  _turning off_   _that awful racket!_

 

Then there’s one night, a couple years into their friendship that ends a little differently. They’re settling in, and Barry suggested Netflix this time because there’s not much else in his DVD collection to watch, and Hal made a joke. 

“ _Netflix and chill?_ ”

And Barry didn’t get it. Hal explained it, more awkward than anything else. Rubbing the back of his neck, and chuckling nervously and repeating that it was just a joke, he didn’t really mean it. 

Barry didn’t say anything, just bit his lip and chuckled, too. Then put on a rom-com he knew they’d both hate, slid onto the couch a little closer than usual, and turned to meet Hal’s eyes that were already burning into him. 

They didn’t get past the opening credits.

Those nights took over the rest. Soft talks punctuated by an explosion from a scene and gentle kisses. Making out and ignoring the stupid jokes of a comedy until the gust of a freezing cold breeze, or a sudden and unprecedented hail storm signaled trouble. 

 

And it doesn’t occur to Barry that they rarely even get past the halfway point let alone actually finish a movie, until they finally do. It was a movie he picked out of a box at a garage sale a few weeks before, Little Miss Sunshine. He liked the cover, the bright yellow and the family chasing after a VW bus. And the name reminded him of the Mr Men books his mom got him when he was little. He thought it would be a nice light comedy they could put on and ignore. 

Oh boy, was he wrong. Not that he didn’t like it, he actually loved it. And Hal did too, he thinks. He watched with rapt attention when the son learned he couldn’t be a pilot. And smiled big when the little girl did her grandfather’s routine. But Barry had to ask anyway. 

He looked down to his lap where Hal’s head rested, and ran his fingers through his hair. Hal blinked up at him and he smiled fondly. 

“That was good, yeah?” he asks softly. Hal nods, then stretches out. 

“You know that’s the only movie we’ve ever finished?” Barry adds after, and stretches his legs, too. 

“Nah,” Hal argues, “Top Gun, dude.”

“No, you got a call from the Guardians and we went to that weird purple planet,” Barry says, “We fought those goopy, orange  _things.”_

“ _G’yerns,_ ” Hal reminds him absently. Then he gives Barry a look, eyes bright and excited, “So we’re watching that next time, right?”

Barry sighs, outwardly pretending to be annoyed. But he thinks about all the ways he could distract Hal and not actually have to watch it, and smiles innocently.

“Sure, hon.”

Hal beams at him, and Barry thinks movie nights were the best idea he’s ever had. Even if he has to watch Top Gun a hundred times.


	5. missed you (e)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hal gets banged good
> 
> for tumblr user bloostle's prompt

Hal is against him as soon as the door closes. There’s a tongue licking its way into his mouth, and practiced hands tugging at the bowtie around his neck.

  
It’s been four months, one week, and five days since they’ve seen each other. Not that Barry was counting. He wasn’t. He can’t tell you the hours, or minutes, or attoseconds so don’t ask. It doesn’t matter now anyway. All that matters is the mouth against his, the hard muscle pressed against him, and the smell of space and leather.

  
He pushes back against Hal with intent. They weave their way around familiar ground until Hal’s backed into the next closest object.  
When Barry finally pulls back to tug jeans down thick muscled thighs, he vaguely notices they’re in his kitchen. He thinks for a split second that they should be in bed, that this should be romantic. But then Hal’s boxers are pulled down and kicked off too, and the edge of the table presses his ass up and it’s all Barry can focus on.

  
He could easily speed them off to the bedroom, but all rational thought has been replaced with _Hal_ and _now_. So he wraps his hands around those thighs and lifts Hal up onto the table. Pushes them apart as the other man finally gets his shirt off, and reaches for Barry’s belt. He gets it and his pants undone, just pushing the fabric down enough to expose his cock. Then he’s pulling him in and nipping at his jaw and ear.

  
“Fuck me,” he growls into his ear, “Bar, _fuck me_.”

  
Barry can only nod. He speeds away the best he can with his pants halfway down his ass to grab the lube from the bedroom.

  
As soon as he’s back, Hal turns around and bends over the table. There’s a small pulse of disappointment that shoots through Barry. He’d much rather be able to pull him close, look him in the eyes. But he’s never been one to deny Hal what he wants, what he needs. And he knows for a fact that this will hardly be the only time they have sex tonight, or within the next few hours even.

  
So he coats his fingers, rubs a gentle hand over Hal’s hip, and presses one into him. The resulting moan shoots heat through his body. His grip on Hal’s hip tightens as he talks himself down. The last thing he wants is to go off too early. It’s hard when Hal is working his ass over his finger and begging for more.

  
He adds a second, and a third quickly after when Hal barks at him for _more, please Bar_.

  
There’s sweat beading at his temple, and if he could bring himself to let go of the writhing body in front of him, he’d undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt and take it off. Instead he just digs a bruising grip into Hal’s hip, and fucks his fingers into him faster.

  
Hands slide and squeak over the finishing of the table. Nails scratch into it, trying to find some sort of purchase. Hal’s head is thrown back, adam’s apple struggling to swallow around moans and whimpers. When Barry starts to vibrate his fingers, Hal’s spine curves, and he curls into himself as the muscles of his legs tremble. He cries out, loudly, unabashedly.

  
“Barry!” he calls out, “Fuck me! Right now, fuck me.”

  
And Barry obliges. He pushes his pants down a bit more, coats his cock, and presses in. Hal lets out a low moan, and is answered by Barry’s quieter one. There’s a short moment once Barry bottoms out where there’s only quiet breathing before a small kiss is pressed between shoulder blades, and Barry starts a fast and hard rhythm.

  
Hal must not expect it, because it knocks him down flat on the table. He’s still gasping short and pleasured noises though, so Barry doesn’t let up. The table creaks under them, inching across the floor with their movements. Hal reaches a hand and curls his fingers around the edge opposite him. His cheek is pressed down into the surface. Barry pushes his hair away so he can see reddened lips gasping and eyes fluttering in pleasure.

  
He’s close. Tension built from months of waiting tightens his abdomen and balls, and he shivers, again and again until he’s vibrating.

  
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, Bar!” Hal cries. He repeats it until Barry’s hand grips his cock and he can’t anymore. And that tension must have been too much for him too, because he’s suddenly spilling over Barry’s fingers and the table.

  
“Hal,” Barry moans, and follows him shortly after.

  
He doesn’t pull out right away. Instead he moves closer, and spreads himself out over Hal’s back as they catch their breath. He can feel himself hardening again, but he ignores it for now. He nuzzles his nose into Hal’s hair, and smiles when he hears a happy sigh.

  
“I missed you,” Hal murmurs. Barry feels him press back into his chest. He places a kiss against a prominent freckle on his shoulder.

  
“Missed you, too.”

  
Hal smiles a little. Then he’s folding his arms under his head and pressing his face into them.

  
“I love you.” Barry barely hears him say. His heart stutters in his chest, and he barely keeps himself from audibly gasping. After a moment, the shock wears off and he brushes hair away from Hal’s face again. Shoulders tense up as he moves his face closer and places a kiss on Hal’s ear.

  
“I love you, too.”


	6. gettin swole (e)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: Things get tense when Hal offers to spot Barry while lifting weights in the Watch Tower gymnasium. Shenanigans may or may not ensue.
> 
> this is a mess, but i had fun so who cares

_Forty-eight, forty-nine, and…_

Hal has an erection.

The bar slips out of his hands, and despite the burning embarrassment he’s feeling right now, Barry’s glad Hal’s there to catch it before a hundred plus pounds of metal crushes his trachea.

“Barry, what the fuck!” Hal scolds as he sets the bar back on the stand, “You had one left.”

He’s speaking to Barry like he doesn’t  _realize_. Like he doesn’t know that the reason Barry fumbled is causing the impressive tent in his basketball shorts. Barry can’t help but stare at it, then up into Hal’s eyes, and repeating at least three times before Hal looks down himself.

“Oh shit.”

He turns away quickly, and Barry can only watch his back in confused wonderment as he adjusts himself. And when Hal faces him again, Barry can’t help but train his eyes back to his crotch. The shorts hide nothing, and he can tell Hal just tucked himself into the waistband. He can see the faint outline of the head under Hal’s white tank top—

_Oh god._

Hal puts his hands on his hips. Then crosses them over his chest. Then gives up and places his hands over his persistent hard on. He clears his throat. Barry sits up, and after a moment of debate, spins around to face his friend once more. Neither of them say anything for what feels like hours, then Hal clears his throat again.

“Sorry,” he shrugs, “I was thinking of something else.”

Barry can’t stop the small chuckle that escapes his lips, “Apparently.”

He sees Hal’s lip turn up a bit, but he won’t meet his eyes.

“It’s not—I’m—“ Hal stutters.  _Stutters_. The awkward feeling in Barry’s chest can almost be forgotten under the novelty of Hal being embarrassed about something. It’s not though, because Barry has a different awkward feeling arising in his own shorts, and if that just doesn’t make the whole situation worse—

He crosses his legs. Hal shuffles around before he finally meets his eyes.

“I’ve been busy. Haven’t gotten laid in a while.” He offers. It’s an obvious excuse. Maybe someone who didn’t know Hal as well as Barry did would accept it, brush it off, and make fun of him for it later. But Barry can tell. Hal is ashamed no matter how much he tries to hide it.

A Hal who didn’t care wouldn’t have spun around to hide it so quickly. He wouldn’t still be covering himself up. He’d leisurely reach into his shorts and tuck himself away, then wave off any complaints.

A Hal who didn’t care wouldn’t avoid Barry’s eyes. Wouldn’t frown and stumble through sentences like he is now. He’d laugh about it. Make jokes about brojobs then invite Barry out to a bar as his wingman, so he could pick up a girl or guy.

It’s an excuse, and Barry knows it. He  _knows_  it.

He stands up, then speeds over to the weight room doors to lock them. None of the League would be down here this late, and there probably isn’t even more than five of them in the Watchtower at this moment, but you can’t be too careful. He stops in front of Hal after, who gazes at him in question. Barry wishes he could answer that question, but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing himself, what’s come over him to make him act so forward.

He grabs Hal’s hand, leads him to the bench press, and pushes him to sit. Hal stares up at him, lips parted, brown eyes going wide with understanding. He swallows hard when Barry sinks to his knees.

“You know–,” he starts, then breathes out heavily when Barry tugs at his shorts, “The-those locks won’t really stop anyone from coming in.”

Barry tugs at the shorts again, and Hal gets the picture and lifts his hips enough for them to slide down. He’s not wearing any underwear, which is unsurprising because for one, this is Hal, and two, the shorts hide  _nothing_.

“It’s more of a suggestion.” Barry replies. He’s amazed at how calm he is right now, how confident. He’s actually pretty proud that he didn’t trip over himself when he led Hal over. Or accidentally hit him in the balls when he pulled down his shorts.  That he didn’t fumble through that sentence like he normally would.

And he’s especially amazed at Hal’s responsiveness. He just curls his fingers around Hal’s dick, and the man lets out a loud, hitched gasp. Then he slides it over him just once, and he moans deeply. Apparently, he wasn’t kidding when he said it had been a while.

Then Barry licks at the tip of Hal’s cock, and he whines. It’s encouraging, the noises, so he goes further. Wraps his lips around the head, and licks gently at the slit. He works his hand a bit, sliding up and down slowly, twisting his wrist and tightening his grip on the downward stroke. Hal’s hips buck up, and when Barry pulls back, he sees his head is tipped back.  

“Look at me,” Barry hears himself say.  _When did I get so confident?_  He thinks to himself.

Hal complies immediately.

“I want you to look at me,” Barry repeats, before wrapping his lips around him again. This time he moves with his mouth, letting it do most of the work while his hand covers what he can’t take. Hands come up to grasp at his head, fingers threading through his still sweaty hair as Hal moans above him.

And there’s something he didn’t notice until now. They’ve been working out for the past hour, and Hal surprisingly doesn’t… _stink_. There’s no scent at all, which is strange, but he realizes there’s more important things to be thinking about, and he should probably be grateful that he doesn’t have to suffer through that.

He works his mouth over Hal faster. Hal’s hips are twitching up, holding back full thrusts. Barry moves his hand away from Hal’s dick to his hip, grabs with both and digs his fingers into the muscle, encouraging the movement.

“Fuck,” he hears Hal swear, “Fuck, Bar. You’re so good. So good at this,  _shit_.”

It’s nice to hear, considering Barry’s never done this before. He’s surprised himself that he knows what he’s doing. And that his gag reflex suddenly decided to disappear. Hal’s fucking into his mouth in earnest and Barry’s taking it without any effort. They’re both moaning, Hal loudly and interspersed with swears.

Barry grabs at himself through his own shorts. It’s not enough, it’s barely feels like anything, but he moans anyway. He can tell Hal is close by the consistent rhythm of his hips. He tries to press down harder on his own dick, tries for friction that he’s just not getting.

Then Hal shouts his name, and comes, and  _comes_. And Barry can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe. Crap, he can’t  _breathe_ —

He jolts awake, gasping air through his mouth and stares bewildered at the green construct hand pinching his nose. It disappears a moment later, and he hears distinct, deep laughter behind him.

“Yo, wake up, bro.” Hal says, coming up to stand at his side, “Spooky’s coming.”

Barry blinks up at him, still hunched over trying to catch his breath. He glances around at his surroundings, confused at the screens and touchpad in front of him. Then he remembers he was on monitor duty.  _Is_  on monitor duty. He fell asleep.

And had a very vivid sex dream.

He feels his face heat up and hopes to god that he wasn’t making any noises. The telltale sound of heavy boots alerts him to Batman’s presence behind him (and if they didn’t the look on Hal’s face would have), and he spins around in his chair. He hopes Bruce will chalk up his red face to his tendency to get overheated. It’s a longshot, but he doesn’t care. Anything is better than explaining a wet dream to Batman.

“Any problems tonight, Flash?” Bruce rumbles at him. Barry briefly wonders why he feels the need to talk that way in the Watchtower.

“Uh, n-no. All good in the hood.” He says, then cringes. He hears Hal stifle laughter beside him. Bruce stares at him for a beat, then turns away.

“Good.” He grumbles, then he’s gone through the doors. Once they shut, Hal’s barking laughter fills the air.

“’All good in the hood’?” He chokes out. Barry shoves his face in his hands.

“Shut up.” He groans. There’s a creak of a chair next to him. When he looks up, Hal is grinning at him, mask off and mirthful. Barry rubs at his face and joins him in putting his feet up on the desk.

“You think with that nap you’d be on top of your game.”

Oh yeah, the dream.

He feels his face heat up again, and wants desperately to hide behind his cowl. He doesn’t say anything, but hums in acknowledgement. The only thought in his mind is the look on dream Hal’s face when he came. The sounds he heard in his head.

Hal’s foot kicks over at his, and he jolts out of his thoughts. But he doesn’t look over to him, just hums again. There’s no way he’s looking at him right now. No way.

A hand waves out in front of his face.

“Bro, dude.”

Barry blinks and forces himself to glance over, just for a second. Hal looks concerned, so he smiles a bit.

“Sorry, just got some stuff on my mind.” He offers. Hal purses his lips and nods in understanding.

“Need to talk about it?” he asks.

Barry brushes him off, “No, it’s nothing important.”

There’s a short silence, and he knows Hal is skeptical. Rightfully so, given Barry’s tendency to keep his problems to himself to the point where they get too much for him to handle on his own.

“I promise, just…work stuff.”

Hal hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. Barry darts his eyes away from Hal’s thigh.

“Well, you know what always helps me clear my mind?” Hal asks.

“Hmm?”

“Working out.” He says, and Barry blanches, “Or, getting laid.”

No. There’s no way he could know.

“But I doubt you’d be into that.” He finishes. Barry can hear the smirk in his voice. He can feel his own muscles tensing, and knows that he must look guilty as all hell.

“Into that?” he tries to ask casually.

“You know what I mean.” Hal says. It sounds too innocent, but there’s no way he could  _know._  “Not into random chicks, not the getting laid part.”

“Oh,” Barry replies, clears his throat where it sticks, “r-right.”

A hand falls to his shoulder.

“You sure you’re alright?” Hal asks, this time sounding genuinely concerned. Some tension bleeds from Barry at the tone, and the  _friendly_  touch.

“Yeah,” he nods, then sits forward, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Hal sits forward, too. Very forward. Almost right in Barry’s face forward.

“Beating up baddies helps, too.” He suggests, sincerely. There’s too many mixed messages being thrown at Barry right now. The only thing he’s certain of is that Hal can’t read minds, and  _there is no way he could know_.

“Wanna do a patrol of Central?” Hal asks. Barry nods.

“Yeah. That would be good.”

“Cool.” Hal says, then claps his back one more time. Barry calls in Victor for his shift on monitor duty, and they head out.

On their way to the Zeta tubes, Hal gets his arm around him, despite his efforts to keep a nice, strictly platonic distance. Barry tenses, and tries to smile when Hal grins down at him.

“You sure you don’t wanna go get laid?” Hal asks conversationally, “That dream you were having sounded pretty  _fun_.”

Barry knows he turns at least five shades of red.

“Oh my god.”

Hal laughs, pulls him closer, “You know you talk in your sleep?”

_Oh my god._

Barry’s eyes widen in horror at the realization that  _Hal knows_. And he’s just about ready to vibrate himself through the floor and into the cold vacuum of space, until Hal steps in front of him. Until he trails fingers over the lightning symbol on Barry’s chest and lower, and smirks at him, undeniable heat burning in his gaze.

“You know,” He says, voice low and sultry, “it doesn’t have to be some rando.”


	7. fear (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: if youre still taking halbarry prompts, I have one! barry comforting hal (physically, emotionally, your choice!)
> 
> a bit o' feels.
> 
> references flash & green lantern: the brave and the bold #5, but you don't have to have read it to understand the fic (though i recommend reading that whole series if you haven't already)

The light from the Empathistar is blinding. Hal can only barely make out the red blur that is his best friend zooming around it. The star is compressing under his power, and Barry’s plan seems to be working.

That is until Sinestro bursts his way out in a blast of yellow light. Hal fights him the best he can, but Sinestro has the upper hand. The star seems to be messing with his senses, making him slow and vulnerable. He’s knocked out a few feet, and for long enough that he can’t stop Barry from butting in.

Long enough that when he comes to, he sees Barry being hit, and disappearing in front of his very eyes. He can’t explain the sudden,  _sharp_  tug that pulls in his chest. The chill that runs down his spine is foreign and uncomfortable. It sends him into a dizzying anger, and he flies at that pink-skinned  _bastard_ , ready to knock him straight across four fucking galaxies.

He asks him— _demands to know_ — again and again where Barry is, what he did to him. Threatens him when he doesn’t get answers. And he gets hit again and again, until Barry’s words,  _get a hold of yourself_ , ring through his brain and he’s able to concentrate. He fights back hard, and eventually is able to get Sinestro’s ring off. But before he can get the alien to reveal his friend’s whereabouts, the Empathistar gets to him, amplifies his fear and he’s engulfed. He disappears in a puff of orange and Hal is left alone in the cold depths of space.

He calls out, flies around the radius of where the star once was, but there’s no Barry. Hal can’t find him. He wonders if Sinestro may have beamed him to one of the surrounding planets, or trapped him at whatever secret layer he might have somewhere in space, and then he sees it.

Barry’s suit. Floating, frozen in folds. Hal speeds towards it, stopping a foot away. He feels ice in his chest, a lump in his throat. He suddenly can’t control his breathing, first not getting enough and then getting too much. He reaches out, but can’t bring himself to touch. Tears prick at his eyes.

“B-“ he chokes quietly, “Bar.”

He’s gone.

Hal floats. Minutes pass, maybe hours. The suit floats with him.

–

He’s slow to wake, but when he’s finally aware of his surroundings, he realizes he’s in Barry’s living room.

The blanket fell on the floor at some point, and despite the Missouri summer night, he blames the cold for the trembles wracking his body. He breathes out a few slow, wavering breaths. Eyes dart around the room, land on the computer desk in the corner, the coffee table, both covered in papers and old mugs of tea. The apartment looks very  _lived in_.

He jolts when the fridge door opens behind him, it sends more shivers through his body. He props himself on his elbow, and twists to look toward the kitchen. Barry’s illuminated by the fridge light. His skin looks paler, almost white. And the shadows accentuate the rings around his eyes and the cut of his cheekbones. He looks like ghost, and Hal gapes at him until he leans down, and the light moves, and he’s bright and alive again.

Hal shudders out another long breath and flops back onto the couch. He runs his hand over his eyes.

“Hal?” he hears Barry whisper, unsure if he’s awake or not. Hal turns again to look at him around the arm of the couch and waves.

“Did I wake you?” Barry asks, still whispering.

“Nah, I had—” he cuts himself off, “I…woke myself up.”

Barry tilts his head to the side and frowns, confused. He grabs a jar out of the fridge and closes the door.

“Alright.” He says finally, turning to the counter. Hal watches him, hears the toaster pop and sees the red blur of movement before Barry’s taking bite of his bagel. He chews for a bit before he notices Hal still staring at him and pauses. They look at each other for a moment before Hal sits up. He wraps the blanket around himself, against the chill that isn’t there, and pats the couch beside him.

Barry is immediately there, sitting cross legged, sleep shorts stretching across and creating a small hammock where he places his plate. His knee rests against Hal’s thigh, a warm touch that neither of them moves away from. Hal stares at it, concentrating on that heat before he drags his eyes back up to meet Barry’s concerned ones. He can’t say he’s surprised that Barry noticed his distress, as hard as he tried to hide it. He’s always been annoyingly empathetic like that.

“Everything okay, bud?”

Hal looks away, then shrugs. The blanket falls off his shoulder, and he lets the rest of it slide away as well, despite it’s comfort, because it’s too dam hot. He looks back at Barry, who just sits and waits, brows furrowed in worry.

“I’m—” Hal starts, then swallows the sticky feeling in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say, settles on, “It was just a dream.”

He sees understanding on Barry’s face when he darts his gaze back to him. The knee presses harder in to his leg for a brief moment.

“A dream,” Barry repeats, “Like a nightmare?”

Hal doesn’t acknowledge the word.

“What was it about?” Barry asks softly. Hal looks back down to his plate. He’s holding one half of the bagel, wrist resting on the edge of the plate. There’s a disgusting amount of peanut butter on it,  so much that it’s dripping consistently from the edge.

“Yesterday,” he says, “That thing with Sinestro.”

Barry hums. He looks to a faraway spot, and Hal can see the light turn on in his head through the carefully blank expression on his face. But he doesn’t say anything, only tilts his head in feigned confusion.

“That gave you a—” he pauses, choosing the words carefully, “bad dream?”

Hal sighs. He crosses his arms over his chest in an attempt to look disinterested. He ends up looking more vulnerable than anything, curling more into the cushions and hugging himself.

“You disappeared.”

Barry frowns.

“I only found your suit.”

There’s silence after that. He’s ready for more mocking, like he got when they travelled back to Earth. Barry laughing and Itty dancing in the air in delight.

But Barry says nothing. He uncrosses his legs and puts his plate on the coffee table, then turns on the lamp beside him.

The light stabs at Hal’s eyes, and bathes that corner of the room in soft yellow light. He can finally fully see his friend. Matted blond hair, and sleep-pinked cheeks, and tired blue eyes. The old Cougars shirt he’s wearing. The lightning scar peaking out of it, tapering off in braches, just at the base of his neck. It’s usually covered by collared shirts, or the suit. Hal thinks he should show it off more, tells him it’ll make him look cool, that chicks’ll dig it.

He smiles at the thought, and Barry keeps frowning at him. There’s a small cluster of bagel crumbs at the corner of his mouth. Hal reaches up and wipes them off, then he’s pulled into a tight hug.

He hugs Barry back immediately, arms coming to grip and fingers clutching at his shirt. He let’s out a shuddering breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m right here.” Barry reassures quietly.

He presses his nose into Barry’s hair and hugs tighter for another moment before pulling away. The flush on Barry’s cheeks is deeper than before, and he smiles gently at Hal.

“Want to watch some TV for a bit?” he asks, and Hal nods. He settles back into the couch while Barry grabs his plate and the remote.

When he sits back into the couch Hal puts his arm around him. He doesn’t acknowledge it with more than a small smile and a nod. Then he scootches a bit closer, until their legs are pressed together. He switches the channel to a made-for-TV movie, and offers the other half of his bagel to Hal.

“I’m good.” Hal says. Barry nods and turns back to the TV.

Hal watches him. He tries to remember the dream, but the images are gone. He remembers the feelings, though. Barry darts his tongue out to lick some stray peanut butter off the edge of his bagel, and Hal feels a prickle behind his eyelids. Tries to imagine living a life without Barry, his best friend, his—

He tightens his arm around Barry’s shoulders and pulls him closer. Pushes Barry’s head so it’s resting under his cheek, and he can smell the soap and sweat from his hair. Barry startles when it happens almost dropping his food onto his lap. But when he regains his bearings, he settles into the hold. Hal sniffs, blinks against the pressure forming in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s okay.” Barry murmurs back, “I’m right here.”

Hal nods. He hears Barry hand shuffling around, then it’s grabbing at his knee, firm but comforting.

They sit like that for a while. Every time Hal feels like he can finally pull away, images flash in his mind of losing Barry. Through Sinestro, or Grodd, or something stupid like him slipping at work and cracking his head open on a table.

It’s infuriatingly confusing. He can think about all these things happening to himself and not feel even an inkling of fear, but if it’s  _Barry_ —he wouldn’t know what he’d do, and that terrifies him. And now he can’t stop thinking about it.

“You had to find out what I’m afraid of,” he grumbles into Barry’s hair.

“I didn’t realize it would be something so—” he pauses, again carefully searching for words. When he finds them, he turns his head into Hal’s neck and sighs softly. Hal feels it tickle at his throat.

“Something so  _big_.” He finishes lamely. Then he tenses a bit, pushes back to look Hal in the face.

“Not that I mind this. Being here for you.” He says, “I don’t. I’ll always be there if you need me—”

“Relax.” Hal says with a chuckle, “I know.”

He gives him a small smile, and they sit, gazing at each other for longer than strictly necessary.

“I just—I love you, man.” Hal says, tacking on the last word awkwardly. Barry’s eyes search his for a moment.

“I love you too, pal.” He says, endearment sounding equally as forced.

The air is tense and steadily grows more awkward between them. A few minutes pass before Hal fakes a yawn.

“I think I’m okay to sleep now.” He says.

Barry nods, “Alright.”

He quick to stand with his plate. His bagel is only half eaten, and he tosses it into the nearby trash can before speeding the plate to the sink. He turns back around and scratches at his neck.

“If you need anything—” he clears his throat, “You know where I am.”

“Yup.”

Then Barry’s gone in a flash, back to his bedroom. Hal sits silently on the couch, the room still lit in that soft glow, and the TV still buzzing. He stares at the bedroom door.

In the morning he’s gone.


	8. jealousy (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: For fic ideas.. Hal likes Barry from the moment they met but he does nothing about it. He doesn't even think too much about if until they form Justice League and Barry suddenly turns into a fanboy around Supes (blushes when Supes praise him etc) and of course Hal takes it as a crush and threat so he freaks out and doesn't know what to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good prompt anon. i almost filled it exactly the way you asked for...almost. i took inspiration from that one panel at the end of titans annual 1 (i think...?) where supes is gently touching barry's waist and looking at him all soft...
> 
> i tried something different. i had a lot of dialogue and i wanted to make sure there was enough action to go along with it...i think the pacing might be awkward, but i'm not entirely sure how to fix that??? i also had no idea how to end it, so it cuts off pretty abruptly...but it has hal being jealous in a cute way so enjoy!

“You were great out there Flash!”

Then Supes is touching him. Looking down at him, his eyes are half-lidded and as gentle as the large hand that curves around Barry’s waist. Barry himself has his hand placed over a large bicep. Even from where he’s standing Hal can see the familiar hero-worship gleaming in Barry’s eyes as he brushes off the compliment, then throws one back at Big Blue.

It’s stupid how upset this small thing makes Hal. It’s not like those two are watching games and going for lunch like Barry and him do so often. Making plans after League meetings and hanging out during their mutual downtime. As far as Hal knows, Barry and Clark don’t even talk outside of battles or League briefings. He’s not even a hundred percent sure they know each other’s last names.

Hal knows Barry’s last name. He knows the full damn thing: Bartholomew Henry Allen. He knows his age, birthday, and occupation. He knows his favourite food and colour. What he takes on pizza and the TV shows he loves. He knows everything. Even if Supes and Barry hung out, weren’t just work friends, Hal would still know more about Barry.

But his friend never looks at _him_ that way. Never stares in awe at his power, his abilities in battle. Never takes a glance at the curve of his ass in his costume. Yeah, don’t think he hasn’t noticed _that_.

It’s really bumming him out. All Barry talks about now is the League and Superman. How amazing he is in battle. How powerful he is, how strong and fast. The way he’s all these things and yet still so down to Earth.

Hal tries his best to show Barry he’s all those things, too. And more. He’s making the effort to see him whenever he can, but not encroach on his home for too long. And he’s been saving up money so he can buy Barry things instead of the other way around.

He even sucked it up and went with him to some new exhibit at Central City’s science and tech museum. Which wasn’t actually that bad. There were enough interactive exhibits to keep him occupied. And Barry was so animated explaining things to him that, even if he didn’t know what half of it meant, it was still exciting.

But that’s not the point. The point is...

 

 

Barry’s one of the only people he’s met that can stand being around him for hours at a time. The only person that hasn’t grown to resent him, not even a little bit. He cares for him when he gets hurt, and misses him when he’s off planet for a long time. He’s warm, and kind, and—

He’s the only one that Hal could see himself maybe, possibly, someday being with _permanently_.

That thought scares him in itself. Adding the possibility of losing him to someone else just makes it a hundred times worse. And it would be easy for Barry to fall in with someone like Superman over Hal. Tall, handsome. An all-American, corn-fed Midwesterner like Barry himself. They’d have a house with a white picket fence and a big yard. With a couple of adopted children, and a dog. Clark would have a chicken coop in the backyard to keep a little piece of home with him, and Barry would name and love every single chick they’d own. They’d eat eggs they’d collected from it every morning for breakfast, and Clark would read the newspaper while Barry looked over a case file. And they’d be happy.

Hal…Well, he’d probably be dead, frozen solid and floating in the endless vacuum of space. Barry would think about him sometimes at first, wonder where he ran off to, but eventually forget him.

He sighs heavily, and pushes himself away from the wall he was leaning against. Maybe everyone would be better off that way.

Their debrief has been finished for about ten minutes now, and Barry’s still chatting with Supes. So Hal makes his way to the door, ready to go to the nearest dive and drink his feelings away. He’s about halfway through it when the sudden sensation of kinetic energy tells him of Barry’s presence. A hand claps his back, and he nods in response, but they don’t speak until the door is shut and they’re on their way to the Zeta tubes.

“Wow!” Barry breathes, steps suddenly bouncier, “Did you hear all that?”

Hal stopped listening as soon as he heard Barry’s name leave Clark’s lips, but he nods anyway.

“Yeah, man.”

“He was _impressed_ by me. Impressed! _I_ impressed Superman.” Barry gushes. He sounds like a teenage girl and Hal wants to punch something.  

“Proud of you, bro.” he says through gritted teeth.

“Wow.” Barry repeats. He stops walking for a short moment, but Hal keeps going. He knows if he looks back, all he’ll see is that dumb, dreamy look. Barry can easily catch up to him anyway, and he does. Hal glances over to him, and the dreamy look is gone, replaced with a huge grin. It wanes slightly when Barry looks back at him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks. His brow furrows in a way that Hal normally would call cute, but all it does now is upset him. He won’t see that little furrow, the tiny line that forms, once Barry’s attention becomes more and more focused on Superman. He won’t care enough to give it to him.

“Yeah, dude. Just tired.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “Wanna hit up Big Belly Burger, get some food? We can catch the end of the Cougars game at your place.”

“Sure, sounds great.” Barry grins. They reach the tubes, and change back into their civilian clothes. Hal notices Barry’s not wearing his usual button up and khakis. Instead he’s wearing nice, fitted jeans and a light blue polo that brings out his eyes. He eyes him carefully, wondering at the wardrobe change before Barry catches him. A light blush colours his cheeks, and he fidgets a bit before his eyes dart to the door they just left.

_Oh_ , Hal thinks, _now he’s dressing up for big blue?_

He scoffs under his breath.

“You spending the night?” Barry asks lightly, finally looking back at him. Hal just gives him a look, “Right. Of course.”

They enter the zeta tube and beam back to Earth, materializing in a quiet alley behind Barry’s apartment.

“Usual?” Barry asks him. Hal confirms, and watches as his friend zooms off to get their food for the night. He himself makes his way to the front of the building to wait. Taking a seat on the front steps, he tilts his head back, and watches the sky grow darker.

A few minutes pass before he hears running steps on the sidewalk. He can pick out the rhythm as Barry’s easily. A speedster trying his best to go slow. Superman wouldn’t be able to tell Barry by his footsteps. Or maybe he would, he does have super speed as well. Maybe he can tell Barry’s footsteps when he’s running too fast for human perception. Hal frowns. _Fuck_.

“Sorry I took so long.” Barry grins as he nears, stuffed brown bags in hand. It’s probably a joke, but Hal doesn’t acknowledge that, opting to get up and make his way inside.

“It’s fine.” He mutters. It takes a moment before hears Barry’s footsteps follow him. He waits at the lobby door for Barry to unlock it.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” Barry asks. He swings open the door and motions for Hal to go first.

“Yeah, dude.”

“Really?” Barry replies, still holding the door for another tenant, “Because you were fine earlier when it was just the two of us, but now you’re all sulky.”

“Yeah, well.” Hal shrugs minutely, watching the tenant disappear behind a corner, “I don’t appreciate having Big Blue busting in unasked and cramping my style.”

Barry sighs, “He was just helping.”

He steps inside and they make their way to the stairs. 

“Having debris thrown at me left and right isn’t helping.” Hal counters. He grabs one of the bags from Barry as they make their way up to the third floor.

“Well, there really isn’t anything you could do about that—”

“Sure there is,” Hal says, “Don’t throw rock monsters into more rock monsters.”

“What else could we do?” Barry replies. He fishes in his pocket for his keys, almost dropping his bag when he finally gets them out. Hal twitches forward to stop it from falling even though he knows he doesn’t need to. Barry murmurs a thanks anyway before continuing.

“Your containment wasn’t doing much good before half of them were destroyed.”

“I—” Hal stutters, searching for something—some other argument that Barry can’t shoot down. He’s right, there wasn’t really anything else they could have done. “Whatever! He was endangering both of us by doing that. You and I aren’t indestructible.”

He’s met with silence, only the sounds of shoes on tile filling it. When he looks at Barry, he’s met with a disbelieving stare.

“What?”

Barry shakes his head, chuckling, “Sorry it’s just--who are you and what have you done to Hal Jordan?”

They stop at Barry’s door, and he moves to block him from unlocking it, “What are you talking about?”

Barry scoffs, eyebrow raising.

“You’ve never been this concerned over that sort of thing before.” He explains, “In fact, you’re usually the first to go running in, endangering yourself.”

“Yeah, myself.” Hal replies, jabbing his thumb towards his chest, “Not the people around me.”

“You don’t know that.” Barry retorts, pointing at him accusingly, “You barreled in today and were immediately thrown into the side of a building. Imagine if you went through it. Anyone in there could have been hurt. Or—”

“If you don’t like the way I do things, maybe you should go find yourself someone else to call when you’re in trouble!” Hal snaps back, “I’m sure Superman would love to seeing how he thinks you’re so _impressive_.”

Barry stares at him wide eyed, mouth agape. He hazards a glance down the hallway, probably to check if anyone was around to overhear.

“Hal, I—“ he says, then stops. He reaches out and unlocks and opens the door in the blink of eye. Hal is ushered inside, and lead to the living room. Barry then speeds around, grabbing both bags and setting them on the table before moving to face Hal again.

“Just because I disagree with some of your tactics doesn’t mean I want to stop working with you.” He reassures, hand reaching out in an attempt to placate, “I know you don’t always agree with my choices either.”

Hal looks away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“But we trust each other. That’s why I always call you before anyone else.” Barry finishes. He leans over, trying to catch Hal’s eyes, but Hal keeps his on that far off point on the wall.

“Yeah well,” he mutters, “Maybe you should start calling _Superman_ first.”

He starts toward the couch, shrugging his coat off petulantly and throwing it in a pile on one of the cushions to use as a pillow. He flops himself down next, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?” Barry says, turning in his spot to stare at him incredulously, “Did you not hear what I just said—wait.”

His eyes widen. Hal hates how perceptive he can be sometimes.

“Are you jealous? Is that what this is?”

Hal pulls his arms in tighter to his chest, “Fuck off. No.”

“That’s it!” Barry exclaims. Then he’s at Hal’s side, sitting himself on the coffee table, “Hal, you shouldn’t be jealous. Supes likes you just as much as me.”

_Wow_. Hal stares at him, “Oh my god. I don’t care about Superman, I—”

He stops, hoping he hasn’t revealed too much. Judging by the blank surprise on Barry’s face, he was unsuccessful.

“You’re jealous of him?” Barry asks.

“I’m not jealous!” Hal insists, but he realizes there’s no point in denying it anymore. He buries himself more into the couch, feeling vaguely ashamed of himself, “Why don’t you get that excited when I compliment you? Or make eyes at me?”

“You want me make eyes at you?” Barry half jokes, but his smile falls when Hal glares at him. He clears his throat, brings his hands together to play with the Flash ring on his finger.

“Superman—Clark is—” he sighs, “I do look up to him a lot as a superhero. And I get excited being to work with him the way anyone would when they work with someone they admire.”

He sounds guilty, and it has Hal feeling that way himself. It’s pretty much a known fact that Barry’s a comic book nerd. He named himself after a comic hero for Christ's sake. Hal shouldn’t be so stupidly jealous that Barry would be awestruck by one of the world’s most well known superheros. He wants to apologize, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead he frowns down at his shoes, and mentally kicks himself for being a dick.

Barry shifts where he’s sitting, and Hal glances over to him. He’s biting his lip, looking at Hal like he’s not totally sure that he wants to say the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“To be honest, when I first met you, and after our first few team ups—” he pauses, cheeks flushing a light pink, “you should have heard me gushing to Iris.”

Hal’s eyebrow raises. He shifts out of where he buried himself in the folds of the couch.

“Really?”

Barry chuckles, glancing down to where he’s still fiddling with his ring, “Yeah.”

Hal feels his mouth curl into a smile, but straightens it before Barry looks back up. Obviously, he’s not quick enough and Barry catches it. Barry throws his hands up, gesturing to him.

“C’mon, you’re a _space cop_ ,” he says, “and you took me to a completely different planet.”

Hal finally let’s his smile show, “Yeah.”

“And not only that, but the guy under the mask was a test pilot from California, and just so _cool_.” Barry adds, “And he wanted to hang out with me, some schmuck from Missouri.”

Hal chuckles, shaking his head, “What was that guy thinkin’?”

Barry gives him an exaggerated shrug in response, “You got me. But now he’s my best friend.”

They smile at each other, though Hal can’t help the small stab of disappointment in his chest when he hears _friend_. Barry slaps a hand on his knee, and rises.

“And I know way more about him now,” He adds, then leans in conspiratorially to whisper, “ To be honest, he’s not that cool.”

“Hey now.” Hal chides.

Barry pats his shoulder, grinning, and moves to grab their food from the kitchen.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Feel kinda stupid, but yeah.” Hal replies, rubbing a hand over his forehead, “Thanks.”

There’s a clang of plates being taken from the cupboard, and he looks over to watch Barry put some burgers and fries over them.

“Like I said, I know way more about you now.” Barry says, smirking, “Including how much you love it when I stroke your ego.”

There’s a moment before his eyes widen a bit and he focuses his eyes on his task, red-faced. Hal watches him, his own smile quirking into a sly grin.

“I do love it.” He agrees, voice low. Barry looks back up to him, a little quicker than humanly possible, and turns even redder. He breathes a small laugh, eyes darting and searching Hal’s face. Hal just grins wider.

Barry grabs the plates from the table and speeds back to the couch. He waits for Hal to sit up before he hands the food over, then sits himself in the freed cushion. He’s still red in the face, and not making eye contact.

“I don’t make eyes at Superman.” He says quietly. It’s obvious he’s trying to change the subject, hide his discomfort with a teasing argument. Hal plays along, and scoffs.

“Sure.”

“I don’t! I—” Barry pauses, thinking, “regard him with admiration.”

That makes Hal laugh.

“Yeah, okay. If that’s admiration, I’d love to know what your goo-goo eyes look like.” He says. He feels Barry jab at his shoulder, and turns to see a teasing smile.

“So you _do_ want me to make eyes at you.”

Hal shrugs, looks Barry with a half serious smirk when he speaks, “I might.”

Barry’s eyes search him again, lips parted in surprise at Hal’s reply. Then he purses them, gaze darting away for a moment before he turns it on Hal again.

“Well,” he says. He bites his lip in hesitation, fingers that were poked into Hal’s shoulder move to play with sleeve of his shirt before he continues, “if you paid a bit more attention, you’d know I already do.”

Hal’s paying attention. He’s hyper-focused on the man in front of him. His eyes, the fingers in his shirt. That polo and the fitted jeans, and—

He and Barry made plans to hang out a couple weeks ago. Barry didn’t know he’d see Clark today. His eyes widen a fraction.

“Yeah?” He asks dumbly, and Barry flushes again.

“According to Diana, yes.”

His thoughts are a confusing mix of ‘ _God I’m a fucking idiot’_ and ‘ _Holy shit he chose me over Superman_ ’. He stares at Barry, not really believing what he’s hearing. And he must be sitting there for a while, because eventually those fingers leave his shirt, and Barry looks more embarrassed and regretful than he really ought to be as he reaches for the remote.

“Uh, we’re going to miss the game if we don’t—”

Hal grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him into a kiss. He hears Barry’s plate clatter to the floor, but he could not give less of a shit. Barry’s hand comes up to touch gently at Hal’s neck, in the spot where it meets his shoulder. It’s so soft and sweet, it makes Hal’s heart jump twice.

When they pull apart, Barry’s staring at him. His eyes are wide, lips parted in surprise. Hal smiles, adjusts his fingers in the collar of that stupid polo. His eyes close as Barry finally relaxes, and leans forward to brush their noses together and place another kiss on his lips.

Hal opens them after a moment. Barry’s gaze has softened, eyes crinkled in the corners as a gentle, kiss-reddened smile graces his lips. Hal knows for a fact this is something Superman will never know about Barry. How it feels to be on the receiving end of this look. He grins.


	9. i win (e)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for tumblr user bloostle‘s pwp prompt: hal teaches barry how to punch and somehow this leads to wrestling and oh no that’s not one boner its two

“Harder.”

Barry throws another punch.

“Christ, _harder_.”

He sighs through his nose, musters up a bit more momentum, and lands a right hook this time.

“Are you throwing a punch or trying to give me a fist bump, dude?”

“I’m trying not to shatter every bone in your hand, Hal.”

They’ve been at this – Hal teaching Barry how to _punch_ – for what feels like hours, and Barry just about ready to speed back home and leave Hal blinking in his dust. It can take a lot to make him impatient and irritated, but leave it to Hal to find that point. Their gym session was only planned so they could work on their skills as a team. Hal’s been gone for a while, Barry’s learned some new moves—some stuff he thinks would come in handy with a Lantern by his side—it made sense to brush up a bit.

But apparently adding new moves has made him rusty on the old ones. The classics, Hal had said, like the good ol’ right hook. Barry himself doesn’t see the point in the standard punch and kick of regular fighting anymore. He can do things at super speed, grab the bad guy and tie him up before he can blink. Plus, he’s never really been one for punching, he’s always been more a defensive fighter than one that barrels in head on, getting the first hit.

Hal had made a good point, though. What if he somehow lost his powers had to fight his way out of his situation? It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. Sure, those other times he used his brains to escape harm, but you can never be too careful.

The only problem is that Barry still has his powers, and can throw a punch at speeds that would completely incinerate any part of Hal’s body if he’s not careful. And explaining that to him is like talking to a brick wall.

“Kay, just hit me like at a normal human speed.” Hal says again, readying his strike pads. Barry takes a deep breath, lips pursing in annoyance.

“Hal,” he says calmly, “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

“Holding back,” Hal responds, frustration colouring his voice, “C’mon man, I’m not made of glass.”

“With the amount of mass I can put into a hit, you might as well be made of sand.”

“Barry, c’mon!”

“No, Hal.” Barry says, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, but I think we’re done here.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. Hal frowns, eyebrows furrowing in anger. Then he’s undoing the straps on the pads and throwing them to the ground. He closes the distance between them, and—surprisingly—lands a mean punch to Barry’s shoulder before he realizes what’s happening.

“Ow!” Barry yelps, clutching at the spot, “Are you serious?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

Hal gets even more in his face, to the point where Barry can feel his breath puffing over his nose and cheeks. Something hooks in his chest, _tugs_ to try and make him close the distance, but instead he steps back. He raises an eyebrow when Hal follows.

“Really?” he asks, and gets shoved in response, “Hal.”

The smirk that pulls at Hal’s lips sends a thrill of heat through his chest. It dissipates a bit when Hal shoves him again.

“What,” _shove_ , “are you going,” _shove_ , “to do about it?”

Before he’s able to give that last push, Barry grabs his wrists and shoves him back. Hal stumbles a bit, shock colouring his features for barely a moment. Then that smirk is back in full force and he’s rushing at him. Barry speeds out of the way immediately, moving behind Hal before he process it. He doesn’t do anything though, despite the overwhelming urge to make him trip over his own feet. Hal turns, tries to run at him again, but Barry dodges it once more. They do this dance a few more times, until Hal’s smirk wanes and Barry’s sure he’s just as annoyed as he was a few minutes prior.

“Fuck man,” Hal growls, “Stop being a pussy and fight me.”

“If that’s what you want.”

He speeds to stand behind Hal, and slides his arms through his, bending his own back to hook his hands behind Hal’s head. Then, he gently presses his foot at Hal’s knees to bend them, bringing him to the ground and locking him in a full nelson in less than a second. He returns to relative time, and waits for Hal’s momentary confusion to pass.

“Wow. Big man using his super speed to pin me.” Hal gripes. There’s a bit of a struggle as he tries to wriggle out of the hold. Barry grins and pulls him back tighter.

“You’re just mad I got you.”

Hal pushes his head back, grinding it into Barry’s cheek and chin as he struggles again.

“Whatever.” He groans when he doesn’t escape, “You know you couldn’t beat me without your powers.”

It’s an obvious ploy to get a rise out of Barry, but he goes along with it anyway. The thrill of their scuffle, of being this close, is making him feel giddy and playful.

“You don’t think so?” he asks, grinning. Hal jerks his body once, twisting it hard, but Barry barely moves an inch.

“Hell no.” he grunts. Barry only keeps beaming at him.

“Try me.”

He loosens his grip a bit. Enough that, with a bit of manoeuvering, Hal can get out. There’s no struggle this time, though. He feels Hal shifting, his leg moving and he frowns in confusion.

 “What are you doing?” he asks. Hal’s breath is coming out in quick, jerky puffs as he moves. It sounds like he’s smiling when he speaks.

“Distracting you.” He says, then his foot comes up and brushes at a spot just shy of Barry’s balls. He startles, and Hal takes the opportunity to pull his arms out of the nelson and escape. Stupidly, Barry automatically moves his hands to protect his dick, and doesn’t notice Hal jumping to tackle him.

They hit the mats hard. Barry is expecting some punching, maybe an elbow to the side or knees pinning his legs. Instead what he gets is fingers brushing gently around his ribs and up into his armpits. Startled laughter erupts from him, and he throws a few half-hearted punches to Hal’s arms until they’re pulling back. He tries to sit up as Hal does, but he’s shoved back down hard. Then he tries again, and hits the mats again. And _again_.

“Hal!” he laughs. Hal’s laughing too, eyes bright and nose crinkling cutely. He pushes him once more, pins him with a hand over his sternum, and gives him a small play slap to the face. Then he’s rising to his feet clumsily, trying to go as fast as he can laughing with bruised knees. Barry has no idea what he’s planning, but then he twirls around and rushes to the other side of the mat where his jacket lies. And his ring. Barry throws himself up, rushing to his feet as fast as he can while still obeying Hal’s rule.

“Hey! No powers, flyboy!” he calls, running after his friend. Even without his speed, he gains on him quickly.

Hal scoffs, “Yeah, for you!”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Barry’s tackling him this time. They topple to the floor in a painful huff, Hal bearing the brunt of the fall. Barry tries to use the brief shock of it to get the upper hand, but Hal’s already squirming out of his grip to crawl the short distance to his ring. Barry tries to find purchase on his shirt, his waist, his thigh. At one point Hal’s shorts are pulled halfway down one ass cheek.

Eventually he’s able to find his footing on the floor and pounce on him, just before Hal’s able to grab his ring. He wraps an arm around his waist, and one around his shoulders. They fall into another struggle. Hal kicks back against him, trying to pry his arms off. Barry gets his footing, presses all of his weight down onto Hal’s torso.

Their breathing comes in short, laughter filled gasps. Some of Hal’s sound almost like breathy moans from the pressure on his chest. He’s eventually able to push himself from the floor, back against Barry’s chest, to twist them onto their sides. He tries to push further, but Barry wraps his leg around his and presses forward to stop the momentum.

Now, he wasn’t completely _unaware_ of his situation forming below. It was hard to miss seeing as his compression shorts don’t really have much give. He knew what this close proximity, the excitement, the _noises_ where doing to him. But, for some stupid reason, he figured he’d be able to calm himself by the time they finished wrestling. Unfortunately, he didn’t account for Hal shoving his ass right up into his crotch. Isn’t that some sort of bro rule, keeping your hips apart?

It doesn’t matter, the damage is done. Hal’s gone still, and not even Barry has enough time to come up with an excuse.

“Uhm—that—uh,” he stutters. What can he say? _What can he say?_ He hasn’t even let go of Hal yet, and the warm press of his ass isn’t making things better.

But Hal hasn’t moved away either. He’s not flipping out, so Barry takes that as a good sign. Or maybe he’s just in shock, the gravity of the situation hasn’t hit him yet. Maybe Barry still has some time to think of something. _Think, think, think_.

It’s really hard to think when Hal is so warm against him. He realizes he’s slipped out of relative time, and when he comes back, he feels the tension has left Hal’s body.

“Hey,” Hal says, calmly, “it’s cool dude.”

Barry blinks as he grabs the hand still resting over his chest. He trails it down, over his abs and Barry shudders a breath when it dips lower until he’s cupping over Hal’s own erection. _Wh--??_

“We both just got a bit excited.” Hal reassures, his voice taking on a breathy tone, “No big deal.”

“M-mhmm.” Barry hesitantly agrees.

Hal sighs, his hips move in a slow gentle thrust, “Yeah.”

Barry’s mind fizzles and blanks. He has no idea what’s happening, but it can’t be what he hopes it might be.

“Ar-are you trying to distract me again?” he jokes awkwardly. Gasps quietly as Hal shifts his hips in another languid thrust, ass tilting further into Barry’s cock.

“No, but good idea.”

He presses back even more, reaching an arm around to grab at Barry’s hip and pull him closer. Barry’s eyes flutter shut as he bites back a groan. The hand on Hal’s dick squeezes gently, and he hears a soft sigh before Hal’s turning quickly in his arms and pushing him into the mats. His wrists are grabbed and pinned above his head. Hal moves to straddle his waist, sitting just out of reach of his cock.

When Barry opens his eyes, Hal’s grinning down at him. His face is flushed a soft pink, and his eyes are dark. There’s a very noticeable tent in his basketball shorts.

It’s a surreal image. A persistent and confusing dream come true. Barry breathes out heavily as Hal leans down to press his nose into his neck and collarbone. His hips slide back until they rest, pleasantly warm, over Barry’s own. He bucks up into him tentatively, cock brushing into Hal’s, making them both moan.

Then Hal’s grinding into him hard. Pressing over and over. His grip tightens around Barry’s wrists, mouth opening to let teeth ghost over the tendons in his neck. Barry tilts his head to the side, nose brushing over Hal’s arm. He presses a kiss to the skin, and it spurs Hal to finally lay gentle, biting kisses to his neck. He trails them up, across Barry’s jaw to his chin, then stops. He hovers over Barry’s mouth, and their eyes meet. They stay like that for what feels like hours before Barry flicks his tongue over his bottom lip, and closes the space between them.

Hal’s mouth immediately opens, tongue swiping out, prodding until Barry opens up for it. He fucks into his mouth, deep and aggressive, and it’s hard for Barry to catch even the slightest breath. He moans anyway, follows Hal’s lips when he pulls away. Their faces are still so close, he could easily kiss Hal again if he wanted. But he notices the crinkle in his eyes, telling him of the cheeky grin he can barely see in his peripherals.

“Told you that you couldn’t beat me without your powers.” Hal murmurs, breath ghosting over Barry’s lips, making him lean in a centimeter before the words process and he stops. He slips out of relative time to take in their position.

Hal still has his arms pinned over his head, but his elbows are bent, which will make them more pliable to push against. He’s on top of Barry’s hips, but straddling him. Barry’s legs are free to bend so he can plant his feet firmly on the ground. And Hal is a guy, too—can be distracted in the same way Barry was before.

He briefly wonders if speed thinking is considered cheating as time normalizes again.

Licking his lips, he let’s his body ease of all tension. Relaxes into the grip on his arms, brings his legs to a bend, as if to keep Hal cradled in his spot. He sees Hal’s smile grow into something softer and dirtier. Then, after brushing their noses together, he lifts his hips, pretending to thrust into the ass above them. Hal’s mouth drops open slightly, and his eyes go half-lidded, his hold loosens. There’s his chance.

He puts all of his effort into pushing his hips and arms from the ground, twisting his body to throw Hal to the side. Then he rolls on top of him, landing between his legs. He pins Hal’s arms under his elbows, his wrists still caught in his hands.

“Not so tough now, huh?”

His grin fades when he sees Hal’s expression. Eyes glazed over in lust, teeth biting at his lower lip. He’s flushed and panting. Barry can’t help the jerk of his hips. Hal swears, returns the motion. They move together, and Barry needs to get these shorts off soon before too much _chafing_ happens, but he’s unsure if that might cross some line.

He feels Hal’s arm struggle against his, and he thinks maybe he’s trying to distract him, continue their game so he gets the upper hand again. So Barry pins him harder, muscles flexing tightly. Hal groans, lifting his head once before letting it smack to the ground.

“Fuck, just let me kiss you!” he demands.

 _Oh_. _Oops_.

Barry let’s up, moving his arms to rest on the floor instead. It takes all of two seconds for Hal to surge up, hands grabbing at his cheeks, and kiss him. It’s teeth and tongue. Hal seems desperate, licking and thrusting and grabbing at any spot he can. His legs wrap around Barry’s waist and squeeze in the rhythm he wants Barry to move.

He needs to get these shorts off. The fabric rubs at his skin in all the wrong ways. Thankfully, Hal seems to read his mind. His hands slide from his face to his hips, fingers trying to find purchase on his shorts.

“Why the fuck do you wear these?” he mumbles against Barry’s lips.

“They’re—” Barry gasps when Hal’s hand brushes over his cock to grab at the waistband, “They’re...special.”

Hal finally gets them over his dick, and _god_ just the cool air feels amazing.

“Special?” Hal chuckles.

Barry shuts him up by kissing him again. He moans when Hal’s hand wraps around him, body arching into the touch. Hal’s free hand comes up to push at his shoulder, guiding him to lie on his back. This time Hal places himself over his gently. No pinning, no struggle. Barry wraps his arms around him just as softly, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as Hal jerks him.

He feels Hal reach down to tug at his own shorts, and moves to help. His fingers slide under the band, and he pushes then down, hands moving around to cup over Hal’s ass. The small squeeze he gives it earns him a deep moan, and a hard thrust. Their cocks brush with the movement, and Hal fumbles to grab them both together.

They pull apart, and Hal presses their foreheads together. Barry gazes up into dark brown eyes, can’t really fathom what brought them to this point, but doesn’t really care. He’s too close to care.

He can hear Hal muttering pleas and encouragement, small whispers of ‘ _yeah, Bar’ ‘come on, come for me’_. His gaze is unwavering, and Barry feels his balls tighten. He cries out, spilling over himself.

When he comes down he briefly feels thankful that Hal had the forethought to pull his shirt up before he stained it. The thought quickly flees his mind as he watches Hal get himself off. He kneads at the flesh of his ass, and marvels at the sounds it produces.

Hal’s eyes still haven’t left him. He’s biting his lip harshly, eyebrows pinched up, as he grasps at Barry’s shirt. Barry slides a hand back, around Hal’s hip and under his still moving fist to cup at his balls. He vibrates it softly. Hal’s mouth drops open in a loud gasp.

“Fuck, Barry!” he cries out as he comes. Barry sighs as he feels it spill over him, pooling in the lines of his abs and the dip of his belly button along with his own. Hal braces himself above him, and Barry pulls his shorts back over his ass, giving it a small pat. They sit in silence as Hal catches his breath. After a moment, a cheeky smile form on his lips. Barry raises an eyebrow in question.

“I win.” Hal says, winking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a hc i put in but forgot to explain...basically i hc that barry has compression shorts made from his friction resistant suit material just in case he goes too hard when he excercises...he'd be pretty embarrassed if his pants just completely incinerated...


	10. happy ending au drabble (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> barry grows some facial hair while hal's away. they're old men with some pets who love each other.
> 
> i guess maybe a first drabble for my happy ending au??? we'll see

He’s jolted awake when the dogs leap from the bed and race out of the room. There’s the telltale sounds of Lightning losing her footing and sliding into the wall. Barry sits up just in time to see Tom Cat jump down from his spot on top of the full laundry basket. He waddles his way out of the room as well. Barry sits still and listens for growling or barking. There’s none.

  
_Hal’s home_ , he thinks as he relaxes, and stretches himself back out on the bed. He decides he’ll stay there and let the pets say their hellos first.

  
A myriad of footsteps sound down the hallway a few moments later. He hears Hal make a joking comment about how Barry doesn’t care about him or love him like the girls do. The green glow in the hall snuffs out before a figure stalks into the room.

  
“I heard that,” Barry mumbles, “I’m old. I can’t greet you like I used to.”

  
He hears Hal chuckle, and the pitter-patter of clawed feet.

  
“You mean by jumping me?” Hal asks, making Barry chuckle too.

  
“Yeah.” He confirms. Hal calls the dogs back onto the bed, tells them to lie down as he tugs off his clothes. They don’t calm completely. Barry feels their tails slapping against his legs, and the excited jerk of their paws over the bed spread.

  
Hal pads over to his side of the bed. He groans deeply when he lies down, and even deeper when the dogs move to cuddle around him.

  
“ _Girls_ ,” he says, and Barry laughs, “I missed you too, but please let me say hi to your dad.”

  
They don’t move. Thunder whines. Barry sits up, and does his best to reach over her to give Hal a kiss. It’s a small press of lips, cut short when Hal jerks back.

  
“What?” Barry asks.

  
There’s shuffling beside him, then he hears the click of the lamp and light floods the room. He squints against it, as do the dogs and Hal. Though Hal looks considerably more baffled than the rest of them.

  
“What the hell is on your face?” he asks.

Barry brings a hand to his chin to rub at his facial hair, “You don’t like it?”

  
“No.”

  
Barry darts his eyes over to look at Lightning, lying between Hal’s spread legs. She shifts her head, rubbing her golden cheek over Hal’s thigh and blinks innocently.

  
“Wally said it looked good.” He says. Lightning rubs her cheek again and closes her eyes.

  
Hal scoffs, “Wally wears short shorts and sweatbands. You can’t take style advice from that dude.”

  
“Says the guy who’s been wearing the same leather jacket for the past forty years.”

  
Hal rolls his eyes, and lies his head down on the pillow. He keeps staring at Barry’s chin like the hair is going to turn into some animal and attack him. Barry moves his arm to reach across Thunder, and rest over Hal’s stomach. A hand laces with his and he smiles.

  
“You’ll get used to it.”

  
Hal shakes his head, “Nope. Because it’s gone tomorrow.”

  
Tom Cat finally makes his own way onto the bed, and slowly crawls over to lie on the pillow next to Hal’s head. He looks up at Barry too, glare matching Hal’s own. Barry just shakes his head at them both, and lies down as well, curling up beside the Labrador between him and his boyfriend.

  
“I’m keeping it.” He asserts, “Turn off the light.”

  
He closes his eyes, and soon enough the light disappears. It’s quiet for a moment, only Tom Cat’s deep purring and the _swish swish_ of tails wagging fill the air.

  
“You look like Oliver.”

  
Barry’s eyes open again. He frowns.

  
“Gone tomorrow?” Hal asks.

  
“You can help me shave it off.”


	11. untitled cuddle and crying drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr user galv-main asked: Cuddling prompt #18 !! While someone is crying. -INHALE-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to post this here after i wrote it ooops

Mornings like this were his favourite. Waking up naturally, not by alarm or villain or a chirping ring. Hal beside him, nestled deeply into the sheets and pillows. They don’t come often, and Barry wants to enjoy this one as much as he can before something inevitably interrupts it.

He grabs his tea and Hal’s coffee and speeds back to the bedroom, where said man is moving blankets off his face and rubbing his eyes.

“Morning, hon.” Barry coos, setting the mugs on the side table. Hal grunts his own greeting, then turns away. He reaches back, pulls the sheets behind him down, and pats the mattress behind him in invitation.

Barry chuckles softly and climbs back into bed, moving to press himself up against Hal’s back. His arm fits snugly around a taught waist, hand curling around ribs. He nuzzles his nose into Hal’s hair, placing a kiss over his ear before settling, sticking his chin over a strong shoulder and sighing contentedly.  
Hal meanwhile is still, but Barry figures he’s still wavering in and out of sleep. And he may take advantage of that, kissing Hal’s shoulder where he can reach. Rubbing his hand over his stomach and chest. Curling his knees up behind the other man’s and squeezing him as tightly as possible. It’s a bit much, and he knows if Hal were fully awake he’d be complaining half-heartedly and pushing him away. He’s happy though. So happy.

He feels it through his chest and to his fingertips. It’s an immense, overwhelming feeling that makes him curl his toes and stretch out his limbs. Almost as if to chase it. He moves his arm under Hal’s pillow so he can stretch it fully. It hits something. He pauses, brows furrowing.

The thing is small–a small, soft box. He feels Hal tense under him as he grabs it, and curls his arm around to pull it out from the pillow and in front of them both.

It’s a—

It’s a  _ring_  box. He stops short, confused.

“You weren’t supposed to find that.” Hal rumbles. Barry’s turns his head to look at him, chin digging into his jaw.

“I was waiting until later,” Hal explains more. He then sighs and shakes his head, “It’s probably better that you found it, though.”

Barry’s still staring at him. He can only see just the edge’s of Hal’s features, but he can see the signs of pursed lips and a frustrated brow.

“I don’t understand,” he says, though he thinks he does understand. Perfectly well.

“Yeah you do.”

Hal reaches down and grabs the hand Barry still has over his stomach, then brings it to place over the box.

“Open it.” He murmurs, and Barry does. It’s not what he’s expecting, but he loves it anyway. Of course he loves it.

“It’s tungsten.” Hal says, “I wanted to get you gold but I couldn’t afford it, no matter how long I tried to save up cash.”

Barry feels his throat tighten. How long did he try to save? How long has he been planning this?

“I could have got something gold plated, but one jeweler said it fades pretty easily. He said tungsten is tougher. Can hold up to wear and tear.” Hal explains, voice small, “I guess it’s pretty popular for men’s rings now, too.”

He takes the box from Barry’s hand, and removes the ring from it. Barry immediately takes it from him. He holds it, rubs hard at the curve and turns it in his fingers. He feels pressure build behind his eyes. There’s a design on the ring. It’s small and subtle red, unlike the similar one splaying over his chest. He rubs his thumb over it, and struggles to open his mouth to say something. Instead he breathes heavily.

“I found it online. One of those trendy science-themed shops.” Hal says, tinged with a bit of self-loathing, “Lichtenberg figures. You know what it is.”

Barry sniffs loudly, unable to contain it, and chokes on a sob. Hal stills.

“Are you crying?” he asks.

“No.” Barry replies, nasally and wavering, betraying the word.

Hal shifts beside him, moving to turn onto his back. Barry takes this time to bring the ring closer, study it more thoroughly. He sucks in a sharp breath, tear finally dripping down his cheek. When he looks up, Hal’s staring at him. He looks confused, and uncertain. Barry realises he hasn’t said anything about what’s happening. He almost feels like he shouldn’t, like acknowledging it would make it disappear or make Hal change his mind.

He runs through everything he could say in less than a second, and every outcome of every sentence in just as much time. Instead, he hands the ring to Hal, and holds out his left hand.  In the next moment he realizes handing it back may have been a bad idea, but luckily Hal gets the picture.

It’s slid slowly over his finger, just catching on his knuckle a bit before sitting comfortably in the spaces between his fingers. Hal grasps his hand for a moment, looks at it before nodding and letting go.

Another tear runs down Barry’s cheek as he stretches out his fingers to stare at the jewelry. Hal looks at it as well, eyes glistening.

“Glad I didn’t ruin your life by asking you this,” he says, voice joking but tight. Barry doesn’t laugh.

“To be fair, you never asked me anything.” He says, still gazing at the ring on his finger. Hal doesn’t reply. He reaches out and fiddles with the tip of Barry’s ring finger before lacing their hands together.

“Do you have one?” Barry asks.

“Nah,” Hal answers, “Never thought about it. I don’t really know how that works with two guys.”

Barry smiles a bit, “I’ll get you one today.”

He raises his eyes to meet Hal’s equally teary ones, and smiles wider. Hal purses his lips, doesn’t smile, but pulls Barry in for a deep kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this is sort of translated in this fic, because the question is never asked, but i actually headcanon that hal and barry don't get married?? i do think hal would give him a ring, or some symbol of forever, but i feel like the thought of actually going through with a ceremony and signing the papers would make him panic, because of the thought of being tied down is way too much for him??? even if he would (and does) spend the rest of his life with barry anyway...i need to flesh this hc out more in my head, but u get the gist.


	12. halbarry week #1 (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for day 1 of halbarry week. Prompts: Flirting or Childish or Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written very quickly with no editing or real ending because i suck

He's not at the right bar. There's no one here that looks like they could be the handsome face behind that green mask. No, not handsome--just, better looking than average. 

Barry sighs, rubs at his eyes before taking another cursory glance around the bar. No one matches GL— _H_ _al_. No one had the right hair colour or style. There were men of similar height, but not the right body type. He wonders if the ring can change a person’s looks, maybe the guy is actually 5’5 with a beer belly. 

He turns back to his pop, twists the straw in his fingers anxiously. They should have unmasked  _before_  their meet up. Hindsight is 20/20. 

Someone takes a seat on the bar stool next to him, and he turns to check them out, just in case. The guy looks like he could be GL. Has the hair colour and high cheek bones -- very good bone structure in general, much better than average. He can't really judge the body type under the leather jacket he's wearing, unfortunately but he looks tall enough. The hair is all wrong, though. Barry just saw the guy this morning, at an impromptu League meeting where they had finally decided to meet for  _real_. 

The Lantern’s hair was full and thick, and a bit on the longer side. Barry would recognize the stray chunk that falls across his forehead in a heartbeat. This guy has his freshly buzzed on the sides, and the top brushed back neatly—not a strand out of place. Not anything Barry could imagine GL wearing, it was too severe, too controlled for the free-spirited man he knew. Or, sort of knows.

The man is served a beer, and must feel Barry examining him, because his head suddenly turns toward him. His eyes catch Barry’s before he can pretend he was looking elsewhere, at the pint or bartender or  _anywhere else_. 

He’s  _familiar_ , but Barry can’t really focus on anything but the burning embarrassment of being caught staring. He darts his eyes away from very, very good bone structure, focusing back on his drink, glancing around the bar again, focusing back on his drink. The man shifts beside him. Barry sees out of the corner of his eye his body turning towards him, and he hopes to god he doesn’t have to brawl his way out of this. How the heck would he explain that to GL?

He takes a breath, and glances over. To his surprise the guy is smiling at him. Barry manages a smile back, and the one gracing the other man's lips turns into a smirk. 

"Hey," he says, perfect teeth glinting in the dim bar light. Barry watches the movement of his lips as the smirk grows before he catches himself, flicking his eyes back up to deep brown ones.

"Uh, hi." He replies dumbly. He feels something in his chest flutter at the attention the man gives him. How he leans in a bit more to speak low over the bar noise.

"See something you like?" He asks. Barry catches the scent of leather, and a hint of cologne, and takes a measured breath.

"Um, you looked familiar." He explains awkwardly, lips turning up in an apologetic smile. The man seems pleased by this, smirking into the sip he takes of his beer. 

"I get that a lot." He says after, licking the alcohol from his top lip. Barry hums, nods in agreement like he understands what that's like. He doesn't, despite his alter ego. Too plain to be mistaken for someone famous or anything. 

"You here with someone?" The guy asks, head tilted to one side.  

"No," Barry says a bit too quickly, then corrects himself, "Well, I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh.” The man replies, lip quirking up despite his next words, “That's too bad."

His eyes slide over Barry's face and body in a way that causes a heat to form in his cheeks. The blush must be visible enough through the dim lighting of the bar, as the guy's smirk widens before he turns to take another drink. Barry turns to his own too, wondering what the heck is going on as he plays with the straw again. The pint clunks back down on the bar, and he glances back up at his new companion. The smirk is gone, replaced with a carefully blank face.  

"Me too, actually." He says, smiling again when he sees Barry's still listening, "Starting to think they ditched me, though."

It's said casually enough. Flippant in a way that if Barry wasn't paying attention, he would think the guy really didn't care. But he sees the disappointed pinch in his brow, and a small frown touch at lips and knows it must have been an important meet up. Maybe a date, someone the man really liked that broke his heart. Barry can sort of understand that, he was really looking forward to meeting GL for real, and it looks like that's not happening. 

"I'm sorry." He says, genuinely. The guy waves it off, frown disappearing behind casual indifference.

"It's nothing. Just a work friend." He explains.  

Barry shrugs a shoulder, "Still kind of disappointing."

"Yeah," the man agrees, then gives him a toothy grin, "But then I wouldn't have met you."

That heat returns to Barry's cheeks, and he takes a long sip of his pop to cool off. He thinks as he sets the glass back down. Hal is clearly not showing up, and Barry didn’t come all the way to Coast City just to buy an overpriced Pepsi. He looks back at the man beside him, and they smile at each other. He seems like a nice guy. Barry's heartrate picks up.

"I think I've been ditched too." He says, meeting the man's eyes. Understanding shows immediately. 

"Yeah?" The guy says, and Barry nods in reply. The guy smirks and leans forward into his space, "Maybe we can keep each other company instead."

Barry smiles, "Sure."

The man sits back, looking a little more pleased than before. 

"Alright." He says, and runs a hand through his hair before asking, "What's your name, babe?"

Barry watches, time slowing as a chunk of hair falls to curl over the man's forehead. The bar has stopped around him, and he sits back to study the man's face. The familiar, upward quirk of his lip, and that hair. He imagines a green mask almost painted over  _those cheekbones_ \-- 

Oh god it's Hal. It's Hal, and he just called him  _babe_ , and Barry really, really liked it. He realizes in the back of his mind he knew that this guy was being a bit too friendly, recognized the undertone of the conversation, but just couldn't bring himself to believe someone who looked like  _that_  could be interested in him. But he is, and he's also Green Lantern, the Flash's best friend.

He snaps back into real time, eyes wide.

"Barry." He stutters, "It's Barry."

Hal's eyebrows furrow a bit, almost looking confused before his eyes widen as well.

"Oh, shit." He blurts. There's a moment of silence as the reality of the situation settles in, then Hal huffs a laugh—Barry thinks he might catch an embarrassed tinge and it makes him feel a bit better about the whole thing. 

"Why didn't you say something?" Hal asks, as if Barry knew. As if he'd just let that  _happen_.

"I didn't realize it was you either!" He explains, a little too loudly, and rubs a hand over his eyes, "I was kind of-- _distracted_."

It's a bit embarrassing to admit, that Hal had him wrapped around his finger with just the slightest bit of flirtation. When he looks back to Hal, his head is tilted, eyes squinted and scrutinizing. Barry stares back at him, confused frown on his face. 

Hal leans towards him again, speaks low and drags out the question, "So, do you still wanna...?" 

"What?" 

Hal nods his head towards the exit, "Get outta here."

It takes Barry a moment to understand. 

"Oh!"  _Oh._  "Is—is that what you meant?"

Hal leans back, eyebrows pinched together, "What did you think I meant?"

"I don't know." Barry says, "Get a few more drinks and talk a bit?"

Hal stares at him for a moment before he laughs, loudly. 

"That's cute." He says, but nods, "We can do that. Let's get a table."

He slides off the stool and heads to an empty table nearby. Barry watches him before shaking his head, and shaking off the embarrassment, and follows him.

"Is this a date now?" He asks, mostly joking.

Hal plops himself into a chair, and raises an eyebrow at him, "I don't think you could handle one of my dates."

Barry pulls out his own chair, and purses his lips in feigned thought, “We’ll have to see.”

Hal gets that toothy grin again, and Barry matches it.


	13. halbarry week #2 (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for halbarry week day 4 prompts Injured or Scared or Loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a tiny blurb written very quickly for Injured. a lil bit of Scared sprinkled in too.

He watches as Barry enters the room, limping on his still healing leg. His tibia suffered a complete break at the hands of Grodd a good four hours prior. There’s still some bruising and redness in the area, but it’s visibly better than it was when he left to wash up. His eyes follow the other man as he grabs his laptop and sets it up on the dresser on the opposite wall. Netflix is put on, and he chooses the first movie he sees, then turns the sound down to where Hal can only just hear the music over the titles. 

Barry let's out a small grunt of pain when he straightens, foot lifting off the floor a few inches before settling back down. He pastes on a smile when he turns back to Hal. 

"I'll be right back," he says, then carefully steps out of the room. Hal closes his eyes, breathes through the persistent pain in his ribs. He concentrates on the sounds of Barry puttering around the apartment to ward off the memory of him screaming in agony when Grodd snapped his leg in two. 

It's there though, clear in his mind. He was on the other side of the building, out of view, listening to Barry telling the team that he cleared the area of citizens then that  _noise_. Ripped from his lungs like Hal's heart from his chest when he thought--

He hates that stupid, hairy, telepathic  _monkey_. It felt so good to punch his stupid face in, throw him to the pavement, then into a cage where he belongs.

"Hey, careful of your breathing." Barry scolds as sets down a glass of water and aspirin on the side table. It's only when he mentions it that Hal notices his rapid breaths, and the pain they're causing. He grunts, stills as much as possible until it subsides. Fingers run through his hair before Barry makes his way to his side of the bed. 

He lies down slowly, shoving a pillow under his injured leg to elevate it as it continues to heal. There's no other visible signs of his injuries like Hal's. The bloody nose has been washed away along with scraped knuckles and knees. Small bruises have since turned to green and yellow, then red before they disappeared completely. His movements are still stilted and slow, but at this point Hal can't tell if it's from sore muscles or tiredness. But he knows for sure that Barry will be A-OK before morning comes. 

Hal on the other hand will be held up in bed for at least two days because of his ribs. He couldn't even take off his shirt by himself, and the skin around the area is dark and swollen, even with the ice pack and aftercare. He can feel the pain where his back rests against the headboard, and he knows what joints will be too sore to move tomorrow. There are no other wounds or bruises, thanks to the ring, but it can only do so much for him. Hence the still injured ribs. He sighs, and grunts again as the pain flares up.  

"Take your pills," Barry mumbles. He's half watching the movie from under the arm he threw across his face. His free arm is bent between them, finger stretched out to brush gently back and forth across the skin of Hal's thigh. 

He's being careful with him – too careful. Like he's some fragile thing. Hal wants him close, to hold him tight against his body. Feel his heartbeat and breathing. He knows Barry wants that, too. Even after a routine fight, they still have that need to  _connect_. Feel that the other is still there, still warm and alive.

Hal shoves the pills into his mouth and swallows them dry, angry that they're lying a foot apart instead of pressed together. If he just landed on his other side, it wouldn't be a problem. Or...

"Get up." He rasps and leans forward to get up. Barry lifts his arm to watch him.

"What?" He asks, "Hal, you need to rest. You're going to hurt your--"

"Just switch spots with me." 

He turns to stand up, groaning when he twists his torso the wrong way. Barry is immediately there, sitting up and stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Scootch over, I'll get up." He says, moving to get off the bed. He helps Hal shift to his side of it, propping his own pillow up behind him to rest on before moving to the other side. As soon as he hits the bed, Hal is grabbing at his bicep, and tugging. 

"Oh," he says, then chuckles, "I get it."

Hal frowns at him as he pushes the other pillow into place beside him, but Barry only responds with a tired smile. He lies down, half sitting up so that his head can rest against Hal's chest. Then he wraps his arm around his hips and snakes the other one into the space between Hal's back and the headboard. Hal places his arm around his back, bending it so he can card his fingers through blond hair. There's a gentle kiss against his skin. In a few moments, he falls asleep to the quiet sounds of the movie.


	14. halbarry week day #7 (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for the prompts First Kiss or Teasing or Trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, not edited and written very quickly so if there's any mistakes let me know. also i'm not the best at actiony stuff so this may be super lame and confusing and just...not the best....also, more of a genfic than slash, but can possibly be read as pre-slash or established relationship.

It was just supposed to be a quick, in-and-out recon mission. Bruce had asked Barry to grab some intel from the Legion of Doom's new hideout. Just Barry, because he's fast, and can get in, get what they needed, and get out without getting distracted. And he didn't draw as much attention as Superman would. Or so they thought. 

He did get past the turrets, and barbed wire, and various other traps for intruders easily. Ran past the hired goon guards and vibrated through each door with ease. Honestly, he would chalk up his detection to Luthor’s god awfully slow tech. He was in the server room for one or two seconds too long. A foreign body that triggered the alarms almost immediately. How these computers could work so slow, but their alarm system could react that fast—it's almost as if Luthor planned for this exact situation. 

Exiting the building was easy, as it usually is for him, but getting past those booby-traps was another story. While trying to avoid getting his foot caught in electrified bear traps, and various other speedster neutralizers, he failed to notice the turret shots, and took a couple deep grazes to his side and leg. It slowed him considerably. He was barely able to keep his speed over human pace.

This wouldn't be a problem if those goons didn't have jeeps to keep on his heels. And it wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't on an island. He can't build enough speed to run across water at this point. And the constant movement of his leg keeps tearing his scabbed wound apart, rendering it unable to heal. Bruce didn’t tell him about any contingency plans, maybe he didn't make one. Maybe he trusted Barry's abilities too much this time. If there ever was a time he wanted Bruce not to trust him, it would be now. He can't keep running circles around these guys forever.

He trips slightly over a protruding tree root, allowing the jeeps to gain on him just a bit, and his communicator crackles to life. 

"Got yourself in a bit of trouble, Flash?"

Hal's voice is music to his ears. 

"GL!" He says happily, "How'd you know?"

"Bats had me on standby just in case." Hal explains, "I'm on my way."

"Thank god," Barry sighs, dodging branches as well as he can with the wound in his side. "I'm injured. My leg and ribs. You gotta get here fast."

"Don't worry, Bar. I'm almost there." Hal replies. His voice took a lower, more determined pitch, sending a pulse of relief though Barry's body. He lets it push him harder to run faster and get out of here in one piece. At the next turn in the path, he veers the opposite way, through thick brush. It'll be harder to get through, but even worse for the henchmen and their vehicles.  He hears the slowed, higher pitch of tires squealing, and wafts of voices yelling through the trees. They're after him on foot now. Cute.

The tree line opens up again a few dozen feet later to a grassy clifftop. He stops at the edge, looking down at the waves splashing below before his heart skips and he’s lightheaded, and has to look away. Instead he focuses on the sky. Once he told Hal his predicament, he knows the Lantern got his ring to track him. He should be here soon.

“Hal, I was able to drop them for now, but I’m at a seven-hundred foot dead-end drop. Care to pick me up?” he radios over. 

“I can try, but I can’t promise I’ll be there on time.” Hal replies, and Barry glance around for him again, “You can’t tornado your way down? I can pick you up in the water.”

Barry thinks about it for all of a second before the pain from his rib wound flares again. Even if he could manage to do that, the residual pain plus the soreness in his arms could leave him drowning.

“I could,” he admits, “but then I don’t know if I’d be able to keep myself afloat.”

He hears a chuckle, "Always looking for excuses to get me to hold you in my arms."

Barry raises an eyebrow, hazarding a glance back at the woods to keep an eye on those goons.

"I think you're a bit confused. Usually it's me catching you." He says, dryly, "Trying to tell me something, GL?"

He grins at the scoff he hears through the comm.

"You don't catch me that much." Hal retorts. Barry thinks he sees a speck of green in the distance. And knows he’s hearing the jostling of trees over the waves. 

"You're wrong there, pal.” He replies, a little quickly. He glances behind himself again and sees movement in the trees, “I think about three times as much as you catch me."

There’s a shout. Barry looks toward the skyline again. Definitely something green there. A speck of black with it.

"I'm unconscious most of those times, so forgive me for not knowing the score." Hal replies, half-heartedly. He seems to have heard the urgency in Barry’s voice despite the lightness of their conversation. 

There’s another shout behind him, a call of ‘Over here!’ that has Barry stepping about fifteen feet back from the cliff’s edge. He taps into whatever speed he can get before taking off. He sees the green dot ahead of him, and jumps over the edge.

It’s a very long way down for Barry. Time slows, and he glances behind himself midair. The goons are just breaking through the brush, a few hands and feet and tips of machine guns poking out. 

He looks ahead and sees that green dot, now more of a splotch. He calculates in his head based on estimates. How far he has to fall and how long Hal has to get here. It’ll be close, but Hal can do it.

"Shit!” is all he hears before there’s arms under him, and they’re both crashing into the water below. Waves rush into his nose and all around him. It takes him a few moments to orient himself before he pushes through to the surface, pain radiating again. Hal is already waiting for him.

“Barry!" He sputters, shaking water out of his hair, “What the hell, man?”

"Why didn't you use a construct?" Barry gasps back. He wipes droplets from his eyes, and glances back up at the cliff he just jumped from. No enemies in sight just yet. He wonders if they were able to see him jump. If they saw Hal and assumed they got away instead of crashing below. Either way, they seem to have a bit of time for Hal to gain his bearings and get them out of here.

"You said you weren’t going to jump!" Hal replies, snorting and wiping water from his nose, "Not all of us have split second reflexes."

He lifts his ring hand from the water, and wills a small raft for them to climb onto. Barry eases himself onto the hard green surface. Clutching at his aching side and leg, gritting his teeth. They take a moment to lie down, catching their breath.

"Split  _second_?” Barry asks after, “You calling me slow?"

He turns to Hal, mouth quirking up. He gets a breathless chuckle in response before hands come to examine his wounds, and the raft lifts out from the water. 

"Shut up."


	15. forgetting something (g)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for a domestic fluff prompt list - forgetting something ft. Barry

Something has been niggling at his brain all day. Picking at it, drifting through just enough for him to pause, but not enough to actually catch it. Building up to tickle at his tongue, but not enough to come out.

It wasn't distracting. He could do his tests and write his findings, and any other work he had to do today. But every once in a while, that _thing_ would come back, and he would spend seconds, minutes, racking his brain to figure out what he was forgetting. When he woke up, when he tidied up the apartment before he left for work. The text from Hal, when he would check the time on his computer and see the date. The flowers outside where he took his lunch, rustling in the wind.

And when he made his way back home, passing bakeries with two-packs of cupcakes, flower shops, and seeing the planes fly overhead. The static view of couples in restaurants, or the park. That feeling arose even stronger, enveloping his brain. He pushed at it as he made his way upstairs in real time, eyebrows furrowed and lips twisting in thought. _What is he forgetting_?

He unlocks his door and opens it, revealing the darkness inside. He pauses. It's only six, the sun setting but still fairly bright in the sky.

He steps in, sliding off his shoes and making his way down the hall. A soft glow emanates from the living room. When he rounds the corner, he gasps, in surprise and horror.

Hal stands at the couch, dressed in a button down and slacks, holding a single rose. There's candles lit on various surfaces. The kitchen table is set, with containers of Chinese food. Barry takes in all of it, then trains his eyes back on Hal, who's smiling at him.

"Happy one year, babe."

Oh god. Barry can only gape at his boyfriend stepping towards him.

"Awesome, right?" Hal says in response, "I know. Everyone thinks I can't be romantic, but they don't know shit. I'm great at it."

Barry only nods and looks around again. God, how did he forget? He knew weeks ago that it was coming up. _Crap, crap, crap._

When he looks back at Hal again, he can see the smile waning. Hal looks down at his feet, placing a hand on his hip, the other fiddles with the rose.

"Too much?" He asks, still not looking at Barry.

"No!" Barry replies, stepping to him, "It's—it is awesome. I love it."

He places his hand on Hal's cheek to make him finally meet his eyes again, "I love it. I just--"

He blushes, and Hal frowns at him in confusion. It's Barry's turn to look away in shame.

"I forgot."

He's surprised to hear Hal laugh.

"What? Really?" Hal asks, and Barry nods, "Oh man, just wait 'til everyone hears this!"

Barry huffs a laugh himself, "Shut up."

He's relieved Hal isn't upset, but there's still a tug of shame pulling at his chest. Hal hands him the rose, shaking his head, and pulls him to the table.

"Don't worry about it." He says, "I'm not big on the romance thing."

Barry grins, "Says the guy who set this whole thing up."

"This is for you," Hal retorts. He pulls out a chair from the table, and gestures for Barry to sit. He does and sets the rose in the middle of the table as Hal takes his seat.

"So does that mean I get out of doing something for Valentine's day?"

Hal frowns at him, grabbing Barry's plate to dish out fried rice, "Hell no. I want the biggest box of chocolate you can find—and the biggest bottle of champagne."

Barry laughs, and opens the container of chow mien, "Alright."

"You think you can remember that?"

"I'm not going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Nope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written super quickly but there u go!


	16. Lygerastia (m)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for a prompt meme on tumblr. user galv-main asked for Lygerastia - the condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out. 
> 
> just a small drabble

Hal's eyes are shut—they're kissing, stumbling their way through Barry's apartment to his bedroom—but he still notices the change in light, hears the quick click of the switch, when they make it through the door. Barry moves too fast for him to stop, there and back seemingly without breaking the kiss. It doesn't matter, Hal knows the drill by now. 

He doesn't mind. To be honest, he's pretty used to it from previous one-night stands. People who wanted to hide. Who were ashamed of their bodies, or their bedrooms, or he himself and what they were doing. Everyone has their reasons, and he respects that. He respects Barry, and his choices.

Sometimes he himself likes it. There's an added element when that sense has been stripped from you. Everything else is heightened. The sounds of rustling sheets, and Barry's quiet gasps. The smell of his cologne, and the taste of his mouth and cock. The feel of skin and hair, and his soft lips gliding over Hal's jaw and neck. Of a large patch of raised and hard scarring that Hal suspects might be the reason for shadows and hiding.

It's hot. It's intense. It's challenging, and it's infuriating. More often than not now he finds himself pulling images of Barry into his mind, trying to see blue eyes and imagining them fluttering and glazed over in pleasure. Tries to imagine blond hair mussed and sweaty. Lips parted around moans, and a tongue licking over his skin. He wants to see him. That's what this is all about. That's what he wanted for the past five years of his life (not only that—everything.  _All of him_.).

They haven't talked about it yet. It's too early. As much as Hal wants to know, he doesn't want to jeopardize. But...soon. He'll ask, he'll reassure, he'll make Barry feel so good about himself, he'll think back and regret every time he's made them do this in the dark. 

Until then, Hal will respect Barry's choice. Won't force him or surprise him with a will of light. When he's ready, Hal will be there, seeing, praising—he won't ever look away. 


End file.
